City of Gods
by AZ-woodbomb
Summary: Gotham’s resident saint/lunatic faces a mysterious new threat.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of the DC universe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wind whistled softly in the windows, a soothing buzz from a nearby television filling the apartment. Dylan perked his ears at a strange noise, no, just the quiet hum of his washing machine.

It seemed like every single noise was there for the sole purpose of pulling him to sleep. But he did not wish to sleep. God knows how much of his time he spent sleeping, slowly wasting away, completely detached from reality and the people around him.

He shook the notion of rest from his mind and set his eyes on the bottle, admiring the enticing twinkle emanating from the golden beverage. He took a sip, feeling the warm embrace of intoxication.

Sleep was never peaceful or refreshing anyway. His dreams constantly haunted him, thinking of the friends he had lost, some during Fright Night, some during the Joker´s reign of terror, others to the simple cruelty of petty crooks. Imagining his friends´ last moments in horrifying detail, remembering their lifeless faces in the morgue. No, it was best to stay awake.

Not all of his friends were dead, but they were all gone. Anna, Chris and Andrea had all left town, Simon was still missing and Oliver had lost his mind. He was the only one left.

His thoughts were interrupted by the howling of the wind, the stormy weather outside had somehow made its way in. Funny, it was almost like the wind rose in tandem with his silent lament. He stepped into the living room, immediately noticing the root of the problem. When had he opened the window? This was not the first time though, he had been getting more forgetful the past weeks. Of course there had to be strange occurrences to make him doubt his sanity. Just one of the many ways The Powers That Be used to show him he was loved.

Dylan´s self-pity abruptly stopped and gave way to panic as he felt a quick slash cross his throat, closely followed by searing pain. The floor rushed up against him.

If there was an afterlife, he might see his friends again. Being murdered granted you a sympathy ticket to the good place right? Right? Righ…?

Officer Dylan was off, the same way his best friends had gone. Yes, it was a regular day in Gotham.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Commissioner Gordon looked up at the starless sky, cigarette in hand.

"You know those things will kill you"

He let out a barely audible sigh,letting out a cloud of smoke. Of course the Batman was incapable of simply saying "Hello". Maybe he thought it would reduce the mystery and intrigue. Come to think of it, it probably would.

"Nice garden" the dark knight added.

"Thanks" Gordon replied. Hearing someone compliment his garden in that inhumanly gruff voice was absurd.

"The murdered cop" Batman continued, "Any clues?"

"Yes, but you should check it out yourself. I´d appreciate your help here. Losing one of our own always hurts and if we don´t catch whoever did this quickly it will severely reduce morale. Besides, it´s a bit… unusual. Right up your alley."

"Unusual?"

"You´ll see."

Getting past the policemen guarding the crime scene had been fairly easy. Mostly because both officers were asleep. Gotham´s finest indeed.

Batman surveyed the scene. The victim was male, Caucasian, 38 years old, average build. Throat slit, no signs of a struggle, empty beer bottles on a table, right next to his pistol. No signs of forced entry, but there were no locks on the windows and a fairly sturdy drainpipe next to one of them.

Plenty of fingerprints, most of them belonging to one Anna Ramirez. Not a likely culprit since she had left town two weeks ago. The other prints did not supply any likely suspects either, unless they had inadvertently touched every surface in the apartment after murdering the man.

The only thing that stood out was the writing. Scribbled in blood on the wall was the word:

_Rache _

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere, Dr. Joan Leland finally had the time to give the new intern a complete tour of the premises.

"So, would you like a quick introduction to the history of Arkham, Harleen?"

"No thanks, Dr. Leland, I´ve read all about it already"

"Alright then, let´s go. Oh, and by the way, call me Joan"

"´kay"

Dr. Leland was nice, but after half an hour of excruciating boredom, Harleen was on the verge of going mad herself. But the last stop made it all worth it. The High Security ward. Where they kept the most dangerous and famous lunatics, the only ones that really intrigued her.

Her interest mostly lay in two patients. The Joker and the Scarecrow, Gotham´s most infamous residents. Harleen zoned out Dr. Leland´s prattling as they passed the Scarecrow´s cell. She saw him through the bullet proof glass, a bored look on his face. He had striking features, an unnatural beauty. It was always hard to think of physically attractive people as truly evil. If not for his reputation he would not have been imposing in the least.

Then they walked by the Joker´s cell. Or rather, Dr. Leland did. Harleen was frozen in her tracks. There in all his glory stood the Joker, amusement in his eyes.

"Heh, I got good news and I got..ahhh.. bad news, gorgeous. The bad news is you´re on the wrong side of the fence. The good news is when they finally get it you´ll get to be with me."

After what felt like an eternity, he licked his lips and gave her a wink, pulling her back to reality. Harleen hurried to catch up with Dr. Leland. All interest in the Scarecrow had vanished from her mind. She would definitely be seeing that man again. Whatever the cost.

As she ran after her superior, a few words of a song drifted to her ears. The voice was deep, with a hint of wicked glee.

"…Tonight we´re setting the woods on fire..."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight. A small and strangely pleasurable shudder shook her body.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author´s note: I know Harley´s story has been done too many times to count but it´s just too much fun. Besides, the murder mystery could occasionally get a bit too dry to stand on its own.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don´t own anything

AN: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter: The song at the end is a country song Joker sings in an episode of "The Batman" cartoon called "Two of a kind". Say what you will about the show as a whole, but that episode is a masterpiece.

These first chapters have all been relatively short but if all goes according to plan they should get longer as time goes by.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cave under the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor was dark and dreary as always, the perfect place for a brooding detective. The usual quiet of Batman´s headquarters was pierced by a sound coming from the gigantic computer that filled up a corner of the cave. The Batman was watching the news, a coffe mug with the bat symbol in hand.

"How much longer will we stand idly by as these monsters ravage our city, secure in the knowledge that the only punishment that awaits them is a cozy cell at Arkham, paid for with taxpayer money? No more, I say! These people are no better than mad dogs, and as such can only be stopped the same way. Times are changing and we have to change too. We need to start enforcing the law in a more efficient way. Justice in it´s purest form! Equal punishment for all wrong-doers who relish in destruction and mayhem, whether the miscreant is mad or not. The death penalty is a fitting punishment for these murderous lunatics!"

"Strong words from councilman Rafe, who has been gathering support for…"

"Barbaric" Alfred said as Batman turned the program off.

"Hrmmm" was Batman´s contribution to the conversation.

"Something on your mind, sir?"

"A cop was killed last night and I´ve got nothing. No witnesses, no fingerprints. The victim has no friends to speak of, the neighbors did not know him at all and no enemies as far as Gordon knows. The only thing I´ve got is this message scrawled on the wall in the victims´ blood: Rache"

"How ghastly. Any clue as to why it was written?"

"It means revenge. Maybe a crook exacting revenge for some slight, but why is it in German?"

"Pardon sir, but this sounds suspiciously like the first story featuring Sherlock Holmes, A Study in Scarlet. If I recall correctly, the murderer in the story left exactly the same message, for the sole purpose of taunting the police"

Bruce´s lips twitched ever so slightly. Of course Alfred read Sherlock Holmes.

"That´s interesting, but it hardly helps my case" Batman was monitoring calls to the police and as soon as he had finished the sentence, his eyes found a report of a break-in at a jewellery store on Doyle street.

A grunt was his only response as he rushed to one of his vehicles.

Alfred allowed himself the ghost of a smile as he watched the Batman exit the cave.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At another dark and dreary location, Harleen had been assigned to the night shift. A few employees were sick and they decided this was a perfect chance for her to earn some experience. She didn´t really have to do anything, so Dr. Leland had given Harleen her notes so she could study them. But Dr. Leland was not the Joker´s psychiatrist so the notes were all pretty boring. Arkham was even creepier at night, so she decided to spend some time with the guard on monitor duty.

She opened the door to the monitor room. The guard was playing darts. He grinned sheepishly. Despite having just arrived, he was apparently just as bored as she was.

"Hiya! Mind if I hang with you awhile?"

"Not at all, not at all"

She´d talked to him a few times since she started and had always thought there was something odd about him. A shifty fella who struck her as being silver-tongued enough to sell paintings to the blind. Somehow he´d become friendly with his superiors, who liked him enough to spare him all the most tedious tasks. He played chess in every single break and had the smug aura of someone who thought of himself as the smartest man in the building.

He was a bit too untrustworthy for her to think of him as a friend, but he was fun enough to talk to. A conversation should be able to take her mind off the Joker for a while.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman left his vehicle(he would never admit it but he was sorely tempted to call it the Batmobile) in an alley close to the jewellery store and set off on foot.

Felicity´s Divine Jewels, the sign on the door said. Corny.

Instead of breaking the window, the perpetrators had removed the whole window. It was nowhere to be seen. Batman carefully entered through the neat gap. The robbers were long gone.

Despite the grand title, the store was not very impressive. It seemed to be aiming for a lower class clientele, most of the jewels were fake and the ones that were real were low quality. But then again, having real jewels in such a seedy part of town would be madness.

Only one item seemed to be missing. According to the price tag it was a ruby red ring. This was not done for monetary gain or revenge. It was always worrying when there was no apparent reason.

He could hear sirens approaching. It wasn´t quite dark enough for him to pull off any fancy disappearing acts so his only choice was to scamper(in an elegant and graceful manner of course). He could mull over this strange robbery as he patrolled.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours of fulfilling violence and justice later, the Batman crouched beside one of Gotham´s charming rooftop gargoyles. He was perched on the rooftop across from Harvey Dent´s old apartment. Every time he passed it he contemplated the tragic events that had occurred. And how he had dealt with it.

But dwelling in the past did not change things and it did not bring him any peace. He had to get going, places to be, crimes to thwart. Besides, the new owner of Harvey´s apartment had terrible taste in window decorations. What was that anyway? On every window there seemed to be painted a….red circle?

He swooped over at an alarming speed and quietly made his way into the apartment. His blood ran cold. The room he was standing in had been neatly divided in two, one side painted white, the other black. All the furniture in the white half spotless, the ones in the black half broken to pieces.

In the middle of the room was a table, stretching across both halves of the room. The table was painted, but the colors were reversed. The black side of the table was in the white half of the room and vice versa. Two addresses were scribbled on the table. On the black half was the address of the murdered cop and on the white half an unknown one, 22 Davenport street. He jumped out of the apartment and set off in the direction of the Batmobile(the vehicle, he corrected himself. Alfred would make fun of him forever if he ever said this in his presence).

It was time to pay Arkham a visit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Okay, not much has happened but I´m getting to it. You have my word.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: Reviews would be appreciated at this point. The characters seem a bit out of character to me but it's hopefully not enough to make your eyes bleed. If it turns out it does, I apologize profusely.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred hurried down from his bedroom to answer the phone. Only Master Bruce could be calling at such an ungodly hour. But he would still not sink so low as to answer with a casual greeting.

"Wayne Manor, how can I be of service?"

"Alfred, I need you to do something for me. I want you to imitate Gordon and call Dr Elsep, the director of Arkham asylum. Tell him you desperately need to meet him in his office"

"Very good, sir"

"I also need you to look something up. Check the police database for any crimes reported in Davenport Street"

The Batman hung up without another word. Alfred was tempted to let out an indignant huff but managed to keep it in. Besides, it was good to be of use, and hearing Master Bruce´s voice was always a relief. But he would still feel guilty over waking a man so late in the night.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman stood in front of the asylum and stared at its menacing exterior. Someone had found out about Harvey Dent and that someone was very likely inside, probably a doctor or worse yet, a patient.

He entered the asylum and made his way to Dent's supposedly secret cell. It was in a brand new corridor that Wayne Industries had paid for. Only three people knew of it, Dr. Elsep, who was the only one who took care of Harvey, Commissioner Gordon and Bruce Wayne.

It was like every other cell in the asylum, a single bed, a sink and a toilet. A glass wall which could be slid open faced the corridor.

Batman walked up to the glass to make sure this was indeed Dent. Harvey sat facing the glass, flipping his silver dollar repeatedly. His healthy eye was closed, but the other one seemed to be watching him intently. Other than that, Harvey showed no sign of acknowledging his presence.

As he leaned in closer, Batman could hear frantic whispering from the cell. There were two voices, Harvey's and a growl that could only be the voice of Two-Face. He seemed to be arguing with himself, or rather themselves, but then abruptly stopped and flipped his coin once more. He looked at it and a cruel grin formed on his face. He jumped up and slammed his body into the glass.

"We're leaving sooner or later," Two-Face said.

"I've had more than enough fun here," Harvey added.

"And when we do, this city will never be the same again," Two-Face went on.

"Maybe when you've experienced loss and failure on your own skin you'll understand my pain," Harvey continued.

"Then you'll see you were wrong in keeping us from punishing those responsible for Rachel's death", Two-Face concluded.

"Until then, Batman," Harvey finished and walked back to his bed.

As Batman left, he could not keep from brooding. He had failed both Harvey and Rachel. One dead and the other a shadow of his former self. He wasn't sure if he could bear fighting Harvey again.

As he left, Alfred reported what he had dug up. Dr. Elsep was on his way and the police report told of a number of tied up mobsters. It fit Two-Face's methodology but he couldn't have done it from the inside.

Which meant that he had two other suspects to interrogate before Elsep showed up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan Crane woke up with a feeling of dread. Something didn't feel quite right. He reached for his glasses but was stopped as a gloved hand grabbed his wrist. He did his best not to jump in surprise.

"Tell me what you know," the voice demanded.

"And what matter are you referring to?," he answered.

"You know what I'm talking about"

"No, I really don't. So enlighten me"

"The murdered cop"

"Policemen die all the time. It's in the job description"

"You **will** tell me what you know"

"Or what, oh omnipresent authority figure, you'll beat me until I talk? You could really use some advice on fear tactics. As an expert, I could give you a few helpful tips if you like"

Batman slammed the Scarecrow's head against the wall.

"Can't you get it into your thick skull that I don't know anything, you brute!?"

"If I find out you're behind this, there'll be hell to pay"

"Are you actually trying to scare me with your new reputation? No one with half a brain would think you would kill a bunch of nobodies but spare the Joker. You're a buffoon but not a murderer. I, on the other hand, have no qualms about killing you the next time we meet. Now go away"

The Batman left, fairly assured of the Scarecrow´s innocence in this particular case. This left only one suspect among the inmates, a man who was currently residing a few cells down the corridor.

He entered his cell silently, hoping to use the same tactic as he had used on Crane. But as soon as he slid the door back and closed it, the Joker jumped off of his bed and lunged at him with what looked like a crayon. A quick takedown put an end to all notions of… somehow harming him with a crayon.

"Oh, darling, you're home! Didn´t mean to scare ya, I just thought ya were one of those hooligans I keep hearing about. You really shoulda called first, I must look like a mess! But listen to me go on and on about me, how have **you **been?"

"Tell me everything you know about the cop killing," the Batman growled as he stood above the Joker with one leg on his chest to keep him from standing up.

"Heh, wow, you really are new to this aren't ya? What sorta dirty talk is that? Most people would turn ya down at this point, but me, I'm special. I've missed ya almost as much as you've missed me and I wouldn't drrrream of saying no to my Batsy, no matter how bad at foreplay he is"

"Answer me!"

"Sheesh, don't you snap at me in front of the children! That's just plain wrong! I mean, what would Rachel say?"

At this point the Batman lost his temper and started pounding on the Joker. He just started laughing.

"Heehaha, that's my man! Hooo, yeah, that's the spot, huhuhhaha,almost there, you're doing good sweetie, just ahaha keep going"

Batman stopped, a look of disgust evident on what little of his face was visible. This was getting him nowhere. He got off the Joker and turned to leave.

"I thought ya wanted to know stuff? Like, whether I know that Twoofie's alive and that someone's toying with ya?"

"You're behind this, aren't you!?"

"Nope"

"Then how do you know all this?"

"Gee, it almost sounds like ya think I have some sorta limits. Tell you what, how about we team up and catch this guy? The Dynamic Duo! Or bring Scary and be The Terrible Trio! And maybe Twoofie as well and be The Queer Quartet! That last one would really scare the bad guys! Whaddya say?"

Batman kicked the Joker one more time to relieve his frustration and left the cell. The only thing he'd gained so far was death threats from three madmen. He headed for the directors office. Elsep should be showing up soon.

"Wait! I need to know something. Do you have a reflection? Batsy! Batsy! I'm talking to ya! Don't be a stranger!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley could've sworn she heard faint laughter coming from the High Security Ward. She left the monitor room to investigate. Everything had gone silent. She stopped at the Joker's cell. There he was, lying bruised and battered, blood pooling around his head. She stifled a scream and ran back to the monitor room. As she ran away, the Joker grinned at his success.

"We need to call Dr. Elsep, now!" she announced to the guard as she burst into the monitor room.

"You can talk to him in person, he just came in. He's in his office right now"

Harley was off without another word.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Elsep sat in his office, still half-asleep, waiting for Commissioner Gordon. He couldn´t imagine what was so important. All the patients were still in their cells and the apocalypse wasn't underway. Suddenly, a growling voice sounded from behind him.

"Dr. Elsep"

He let out a not-so manly shriek. The Batman seemed taken aback for a moment, then tried again.

"Dr. Elsep, someone knows about Harvey Dent. Joker apparently does too. How did this happen?"

"I-I don't k-know," the doctor replied. The Batman might be a hero and not the murderer the media made him out to be but he still gave him the chills.

"Then find out and let me know. This is very urgent"

"I'll l-look into it"

At that moment, Harley burst in to tell Dr. Elsep about Joker´s condition. But she didn't manage to say anything, because the first thing she saw was a wanted murderer. Of course it was the Batman who had assaulted the Joker. With full co-operation from the asylum staff. It all became clear to her as she stormed out of Dr. Elsep's office. It wasn't just that her that needed to meet the Joker, he needed her protection. She'd get his case, and nothing and no-one would be able to stop her. Her persuasion skills were sure to trump any fears Dr. Elsep would have about letting a newbie handle the most dangerous patient.

As Batman made his way out of the asylum he pondered over the young woman's strange reaction to his presence. Why wasn't she scared? And why did she look angry as she left? He entered another corridor that led to an easy way out. He was unusually sloppy because he walked straight into the line of sight of a guard entering through the side door Batman was headed for. The guard waved and stepped into the monitor room. What the hell was wrong with these people?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four hours later the Batman had returned to his cave. All thoughts of the asylum staff's sanity had vanished and been replaced by utter frustration. He had checked up on the new owner of Dent's apartment. It was registered as the property of one Felicity Rogers, the owner of Felicity's Divine Jewels. He'd checked out her house in the hope of finding some information on why she had bought Dent's apartment. But Felicity turned out to be a frail old woman who had the uncanny ability to become invisible to the naked eye when she lay in her beige colored sofa. Upon seeing a wanted felon creeping in through her window she had jumped up and promptly fainted. He had to give 911 an anonymous call but didn't leave until he had made sure there were no clues to be found. After vanishing from the scene he had returned to the cave. It was then that he discovered another pleasant surprise. Someone had used a large amount of super glue to fasten a package to the underside of his car. But after making sure it wasn't a bomb he decided it could wait.

It was already eight in the morning so he decided to call Gordon and get him to interrogate the old woman. But first Gordon demanded to know why and how he had called Dr. Elsep without knowing it. Then Gordon wanted to know what Batman had learned. He gave a vague answer to conceal the fact that he had learned absolutely nothing, only saying that someone knew Harvey was still alive and had been in his apartment. When he got off the phone he decided to pry the package off his car, while his ears were graced with a morning radio show that was playing clips from Councilman Rafe's newest speech about "what needs to be done". Inside the package was a ruby red ring and a letter. On one side it said:

HER RED RING

And on the other:

_I apologize for the crude way in which this message is relayed but I´m sure it wasn't too much of a hassle getting it loose. I´m glad you noticed the new decorations in poor Mr. Dent's apartment right away. A delay would have been so very disappointing. This is a fairly easy clue, but its only purpose is to show you that it is indeed I who is behind the latest development in our show, which you will undoubtedly soon hear about. You'll find the next breadcrumb at the scene._

_Bonne chance et bonne nuit_

It did not take him long to figure it out. Red herring. The trip to Arkham was just to make sure he didn't stop whatever it was this guy was doing. It was definitely a man, the writing gave it away. But that didn't narrow it down much. Now he just had to wait and see what had been done during the night.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere, a housemaid entered a villa a short ways from Gotham and found five unconscious bodyguards. And in a closet on the second floor she came upon a bound Mrs. Rafe. The Councilman had been kidnapped.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Unless I've got it wrong, the french in the letter means "good luck and good night"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda

AN: I'm slowly getting the storyline going, bear with me. Oh and please review. Pretty please?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Commissioner Gordon raised his fist to knock on Mrs. Rafe's bedroom door. When the first officers had arrived she was a wreck, asking to be left alone for awhile. Meanwhile the forensics team had finished their work.

"Mrs. Rafe, are you ready to tell us what happened?," he asked through the door.

A few moments passed and Bullock, who was accompanying Gordon, raised his meaty fist to knock harder. Gordon stopped him with a stern look. The door opened and the face of a red-haired middle aged woman appeared in the doorway. She looked like she had been crying, her lower lip still quivering. She nodded and silently led them to the living room.

When they were seated, she looked them both over. The Commissioner's partner looked like he had similar sanitary habits as the Sun King. Noticing her scrutiny, Gordon mistook it for distrust.

"This is Detective Bullock, one of our finest officers"

"Oh, umm…good"

"Now, please tell us what happened"

"It was late in the night and I was awoken by a peculiar noise. I strained to hear what it was, but there was nothing. Then, about 15 minutes later, I heard the faint sound of voices and someone walking around downstairs. I decided to check with the guards to see what was going on. As I walked down the stairs I felt a strange smell and started feeling awfully light-headed. I entered this very room and up there by the wall were all our bodyguards being tied up by some hoodlums. There were four of them, laughing to themselves about how easy it had been to subdue the guards. They sounded....uneducated. Then one of them noticed me and jumped at me, pinning me down as his pals bound me. When they were finished they went upstairs. Then I heard as they dragged my Henry down. They had opened the front door and were about to leave with him when one of them cursed and came back in here. He put a letter on the table and muttered something about his boss having his hide if they had forgotten. And here we all lay until Esmeralda, our maid, came and found us"

"That letter he put on the table was that riddle-thing, Commish"

"It's the same riddle that we have been receiving the for exactly two weeks now. One letter every day, always the same message. We thought it was just a joke, but Henry decided to double the security just in case. Apparently it wasn't enough"

"Thank you Mrs. Rafe, we'll do everything we can to find your husband"

When they were out of the house, one of the officers came rushing to them.

"Commissioner! We found a tracer on the Councilman's car and a note attached to it!"

Gordon took the note and read it.

_They are the same in size and form._

_Solve it and find him.  
_

_Its first is his last though regressed five steps._

_His second is four less than its second._

_Its third is two less than his third._

_His fourth is its fourth._

_Its last is one more than his first._

_H-e-n-r-y_

_?-?-?-?-?_

_Come one, come all. It sounds cliché but you really need some incentive. So you have one hour for every letter the Rafe_'_s got, fourteen hours. So you have until midnight to find him. If that turns out to be insufficient incentive there´ll be donuts as well._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mister Kidnapper_

Gordon let out a sigh. Lovely, another wacko.

"Have someone work this out, Bullock. And send someone to ask around, talk to every snitch, get me some information. Someone has to know something I'll interrogate the bodyguards, see if they can't remember some details of what happened, or what the attackers looked like"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce had not gone to sleep. He had been trying to find out how Dent's apartment had been bought and registered to the jewelry store owner while listening to the police radio. The kidnapping of Councilman Rafe sounded big enough, but Batman could not operate in the daylight. He would have to get hold of Gordon. But Gordon had thought of that, and as Bruce started to dial, Gordon's voice came over the radio. He read aloud both the note from the tracer and the riddle that was in all the letters.

The latter read:

_Known to all, understood by none_

_A blessing to some, a curse to most_

_Cause of countless tears_

_The root of all fears_

Batman recorded Gordon's message and wrote it down. He would not rest until he had cracked the clue. But sleep deprivation was already beginning to take its toll on his frayed mind.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley sat in a couch in her tiny apartment, watching an Acromegliacs marathon. She had only slept for a handful of hours, such was her excitement. During the night she had gone back to Dr. Elsep's office and asked him to let her have sessions with the Joker. At first he wouldn't hear of it, but after she had displayed how passionate and determined she was about treating him, the doctor had finally caved.

From now on she would come in every time Dr. Elsep's session with the Joker was finished and she would report to him every time she finished. He would tell everyone that he had simply doubled the length of his sessions with the Joker. He would also arrange for the same two guards to always be posted as the security during Joker sessions, keeping bribery costs to a minimum. She had even gotten rid of those pesky night shifts.

Everything was going just the way she wanted but Harley was too nervous to truly appreciate her achievement. Her stomach felt like it was hosting a boxing match between angry mutated butterflies.

What the hell was she going to say when she finally met him? "Hi, I'm Harley and I can't get you out of my mind. I'd like to cure you but if that doesn't work out I'm content with just being around you".

She felt like a kid again, worried sick that her parents would find out about some prank or another. She felt like she was being naughty, breaking a taboo, crossing a line. It was exhilarating.

Her four o'clock apartment was only five hours away. She had to get it together, reattach the professional attitude.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five hours later, Harley sat opposite a living legend. The most infamous man in Gotham, feared more than death itself. He was the terror that kept good citizens awake at night while during his reign. Devilishly handsome as well. Why were both the big bads so pretty? It was a weird coincidence. But Mistah J had that dazzling charm that she just couldn't explain, so he knocked Crane right out of the park. And even that carved smile couldn't detract from his appeal. His eyes were so deep, drawing her in and….. oh shit, she hadn't said a word yet, had she?

She looked at her watch and blushed furiously. She had spent twenty minutes just staring at him. She looked up and uttered a slight "ahem".

He just smiled, and she blushed even more.

"Let's begin shall we? Tell me about yourself. According to Dr. Elsep you don't know your real name or won't tell us what it is. That's fine by me. He also tells me you either refuse to speak about yourself or spend the whole session describing his life. In chilling detail. Will you do the same to me?"

The Joker stared at her with an expression that seemed to say "Would I do a thing like that?"

"Of course not, Doc. I can never say no to a pretty face"

Harley blushed again. What the hell was wrong with her? She was failing utterly at keeping her composure. Not professional Harls, not at all. She cleared her throat to speak again, trying to get the schoolgirl-crush tone out of her voice.

"Alright then, tell me about your childhood"

"Oh, where do I begin? Dad was a drinker and eventually my mother got tired of him and left us and shortly after I lost my little sister, Rachel. I think I was seven. She wandered off while dad was beating me for something I'd done. I was always doing something wrong, always pissing him off. I knew every crack in that belt like I know the palm of my hand. Ah, the memories. Uh, where was I? Yes, Rachel, the little angel. Anyways, she wandered off, only 5 years old at the time"

Here, the Joker paused for a while and stared off into space, tears forming in his eyes for a moment before he regained his composure. Harley could feel her heart twisting.

"She ran into a group of boys about my age. They were bored and thought tormenting a defenseless little kid would be fun. So they roughed her up a little, you know, the usual. But when they started getting bored with her they decided to tie her up and hide her somewhere scary, somewhere where no one would find her for a little while, just for laughs. But what they didn't know was that the abandoned factory they chose was going to be demolished the morning after. The demolitions experts had already cleared the building and put up signs telling people to stay clear. There were also supposed to be guards to make sure people kept clear but they weren't too interested in their jobs. So Rachel spent the whole night in there, cold and miserable and alone, probably screaming her lungs out, waiting for me to come. I spent the whole night looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found"

Joker paused again. Harley was shaking slightly. She felt sick. She didn't want to hear the rest of the story.

"They found her, well, parts of her, a few days later when they finished clearing the rubble"

"Dad was a man of unsavory reputation, so when the cops came to tell us the bad news, he thought they were coming for him. So he hid and told me to answer the door. When I told them he wasn't home, they told me what happened. When they had finished I went back inside. Dad was hiding behind the couch, on his knees with his head to the ground. He was shaking. I came closer and he looked up at me. He was crying uncontrollably, tearing at his hair and wailing. I was stunned, I'd never seen him cry before, never seen him weak. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, with me standing over him, both of us crying our hearts out. Then he went to his room and locked himself in. The next day he threw away everything she had owned, removing every trace of her existence. He still talked about her when he was drunk off his ass. Talked about her, my failure to protect her and how he wished it had been me and not her, while he beat me senseless"

Harley was weeping, she couldn't help herself. She thought of her own family and how lucky she was, even though her childhood hadn't been perfect it wasn't like **this**.

"The gang of boys gave themselves in shortly after, were scolded, went to therapy and were forgiven. Whenever I went by they'd look down at their toes so they didn't have to meet my eyes. They were just trying to forget the whole thing. But I'd never forgive them. Never. Dad took his frustration out on me, I was going to take mine out on them. I had nightmares every time I fell asleep and it was their fault. I was going to make them pay, whatever it took"

The guards entered and raised Joker to his feet.

"Session's over Doc, we'll take it from here"

As the Joker was led away, he turned his head and stared into her eyes. She noticed for the first time that he still had bruises after the Batman's cruel assault.

A few moments later Harley left as well. She knew he wasn't simply evil incarnate. He was a tortured soul and she was going to be the first person who ever helped him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: The Sun King was Louis XIV, who supposedly bathed once a year.

Acromegliacs is a cartoon that Harley watches in one of the TAS comics.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I realized just now that I forgot to explain the connection between Sherlock Holmes and Doyle Street way back in the second chapter. The whole thing probably made no sense to you. Terribly sorry. The street is named after Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of Sherlock Holmes.

I'm eternally grateful for your reviews, Almost Funny.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You were right Alfred, sleep was just what I needed. I feel invigorated!"

"Three hours of sleep was not quite what I meant, sir"

Bruce stood from his gigantic computer and walked over to a closet filled with various disguises.

"The riddles don't lead anywhere. The answer to one is, as far as I can tell, Death. So it's just an unusual death threat. The answer to the other one is Tilri, which makes no sense at all, at least not yet. So it's time to investigate further, but this time as Matches Malone. What time is it, Alfred?"

"Four in the afternoon, sir"

"That means I have eight hours to find the Councilman. Wish me luck"

"Do be careful, sir" Alfred said as Matches Malone left the cave in the Batmobile.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He made his way into the tenement where the late officers' apartment was. Two policemen were guarding the door so he kept moving up the stairs. He'd poke around the neighboring apartments, to see if he couldn't find something. On the floor above the crime scene he ran into one of the neighbors.

"Who are you?," she asked.

"I'm an old friend of Dylan's and, uh, I wanted to speak to someone who could tell me more about what happened"

The look of suspicion evaporated.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just all been so strange since the murder. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to feel secure again. We're all shaken of course, he was hardly the most talkative person and we didn't really know him but its still scary to have someone you sorta know murdered in your tenement. You should talk to Pierre when he comes back, he was the only one here who spent any time with him"

"Who's Pierre?"

"He's a young student who lives directly below Dylan's apartment. He's from France so he doesn't have any relatives here. He and Dylan went out drinking together every once in a while. I guess they really bonded, because Pierre spoke at the funeral even though he had just known him for a month or so. It was beautiful, had me all teary-eyed and sniffling, even though I never knew the guy. He even brought flowers for Dylan's family, he's a real sweet kid"

"When will he be back?"

"He didn't come back here after the funeral because he wanted to get away from this place for a while. He said he was going to stay with another student. But he'd already paid for the next two months and didn't bother to remove most of his things so I'm sure he'll come back eventually"

"Thank you. I'll come back later then"

"No problem," she said with a sad smile and went her way.

Bruce went down to the second floor, where Pierre's apartment was. On the door was a sticker that read:

_Pierre Myst__ère_

He had a bad feeling about this. A man named mystery? This just couldn't be a coincidence. He quickly looked around the hallway to make sure he was alone, then picked the lock with practiced skill.

Inside was nothing that immediately drew attention. He opened one of the windows and stuck his head out. Right next to the window was a drainpipe that also passed just by the window to Dylan's apartment. He tried shaking the drainpipe. Looked sturdy enough to hold a man.

He closed the window and started looking through the rest of the apartment. A bookcase with nothing of interest, even though it showed good taste in literature. A small television set and a cheap sofa. A quick look through a coffer in the bedroom yielded nothing. But next to the bedroom window was a canvas, on it was a painting of flaming debris falling onto a street. He left the bedroom and made his way into the kitchen. The phone held no messages. He started looking through the cupboards, empty, empty, empty…. But the fourth one he opened had something in it. When he opened the cupboard it whirred to life, red letters appearing on a small screen. First it said:

_I'd run_

Then it was replaced by something taken straight from an action movie. 15…14…13...12.

Bruce jumped to his feet and ran straight for the door. He kept count in his mind and was down to four as he used his weight and momentum to smash through the door with a flying kick. He jumped over the railing and dropped down to the first floor. The policemen above hardly had time to register the sound of the door breaking before the whole building rocked from the power of the explosion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Harley made her way to her session she passed the Scarecrow being escorted to his cell. He was flanked on all sides by four burly guards, each taller than the last.

But when she came closer, she noticed that Crane did not seem the least bit intimidated. He was whistling a strange tune and it seemed to be unnerving two of the guards. One of them was sweating profusely while the other seemed to have trouble breathing. Crane gave her a small nod. This place was definitely weird.

But she immediately stopped trying to understand how Crane could be upsetting them so easily when she sat down opposite her patient.

"Hi, Harley. I think I've missed ya. I even dreamt about you last night"

"Really?"

"No"

She gave him a small smile. She knew he wasn't serious, honest.

"Well then, let's continue where we dropped off. You were telling me of your childhood and how you were going to avenge your sister"

"Yeah, let's see….. got it. I was going to do nasty stuff to the nasty boys. So me and my pal, Harvard, heh, he always hated that stupid name, so I just called him Harv. Anyway we set off one night, sticks with rusty nails poking out of them in hand, looking all grim and gritty, real mad. We didn't see any flaw in our plan at the time. But of course we didn't run into them in the middle of the night, so after circling the neighborhood in the freezing rain for a while, we gave up. I realized as I walked back home that this had been a stupid idea. My revenge would require a plan. I would have to find the boys during the day and pick them off one by one. By this I just meant beat them up a little, my mind hadn't reached its current heights. But when I came home that night, the world was revealed to me in all its terrible beauty"

"As I entered the hallway at home I could hear a bunch of voices. Lots of people shouting nasty things. See, daddy had a nasty habit of roughing up hookers he had the pleasure of meeting. But that night he did it for the last time. The hooker's pimp had settled for just threatening daddy, so the hooker took things into her own hands. She brought plenty of friends, busted into our house and when I came in they were kicking the snot out of my old man. I wasn't really sure how I felt about all this so I snuck to a safe vantage point and watched as they beat him to a bloody pulp. When they finally left, I went to his side. He was coughing up blood, bruised and battered, begging me for help"

The Joker smacked his lips, as if he could taste the moment.

"So I gave it to him. In the form of a dull kitchen knife. This was my first taste of power and it was exhilarating. Best feeling in the world I tell ya. Hearing him cry and whimper for a change made me feel like a whole new person. But my hands were shaking too much for any precise cutting and my knowledge of anatomy was sadly lacking. So I settled for something a bit more brutal. I broke a leg off of a table and bashed his head with it till he was no more"

Harley wasn't sure if she should feel sorry for the father. Mistah J didn't so why should she? Err, that is, her professional opinion was that the man had been a monster.

"When I was done I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. My mind kept trying to grasp the concept, the reality of the thing hitting me every few minutes in all its glory. I was free, I had a vague idea of how to avenge Rachel and I had power. Things were looking up. So I went back into the rain, wandering around for the rest of the night, contemplating the new me. The following day, me and Harv went out again. We caught one of the boys, all by himself in a playground. So we dragged him away, took him to one of the empty sheds that were all over the place. We started roughing him up a little, but I soon got bored with that. So I decided to kick things up a notch. The look on Harv's face when I started cutting the little bugger with a broken glass was priceless! Heh, constantly shifting from appalled to delighted, faster than you could blink, it was like a cartoon. Good ol' Harv. Ya should' a been there!"

Mistah J laughed heartily, wiping tears from his eyes. Then he suddenly stopped.

"But ya know what they say, good things never last. Harv's conscience couldn't take any more when I actually offed the kid. Too much for a twelve year old to handle I guess"

"He was five years older than you?"

"No, we were both twelve"

"Didn't you say yesterday that you were seven at the time of your sisters death?"

"No. I. Did. Not."

He seemed angry. Harley shrank in her seat. Obviously she had made a mistake in her notes last time around. Her bad. After a few moments of intense staring, his mood abruptly lightened.

"Anyway, I spread the good word, making sure everyone knew who had done the deed, hoping Harv would be forced to run from home and side with me. But things never go as planned, do they? The boy I killed had a big brother, no idea what his name was, but he called himself Badman. Seventeen years old, much stronger and real angry. He found Harv first, cut half his face up. Cut up his mind in the process. Very sad. I only saw Harv once after that, because soon after he was cut he went away, some institution or the other. Then Badman found me. He seemed real disappointed that I wasn't scared of him. Like I would be scared of some bully with issues after my old man. As he chased me through the old sheds I called home(I actually called it Kobra Headquarters, but that's a whole other story), I described his brother's dying moments, told him more about his brother than he had ever known, laughing at him just to make him madder. He didn't wanna believe me, but it was all truth. You can never really know someone until you've killed 'em, you know. Ya ought'a try it someday. Anyways, he eventually catches me and decides to cut me up too. I was still laughing at him, so he thought it would be real poetic, real smart, to give me the prettiest smile anyone ever had. Hurt like hell, but I kinda liked the new face. Just so….me"

"Life's been tough on ya, huh, Mistah J?"

"Sometimes I feel like ya're the only one who understands me, Harls". Mistah J? What was that girl smoking? This was going much faster than he had anticipated, but he would have to keep from jumping up and down in glee.

So he settled for removing his restraints and kissing her with more passion than she had ever experienced in her sterile little life.

Then the guards came in and beat him into "submission" in front of her eyes. Joker : 1, Stupid People : 0

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After making his escape from the tenement, making sure no-one was in need of help, and making sure he didn't look too ruffled, Bruce paid a visit to the bars in the neighbourhood. All of them recognized Dylan from a picture, but only two remembered him being with a drinking buddy. And only one of those had any information.

"Sure, I seen 'im before. Good customer, drank a lot, always payed, and had some loony stories to tell. Said he was a real hot-shot detective, knew things no-one else did and stuff like that. Then he finally told me what this bigger 'an life secret was. Harvey Dent is apparently alive and evil, already blown 5 people inta the afterlife! You could be next! Heh, even his pal laughed at 'im"

That would explain how this man knew of Dent, but it gave no lead as to where Councilman Rafe was being held. Alfred had searched for information on this Mr. Mystère but after extensive digging, it turned out he didn't exist. And the man who had provided him with an alibi when he was interrogated by the police didn't exist either.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Bruce was in a seedy bar, speaking to one of his contacts. Only fifteen minutes to midnight and none of his contacts knew anything about who had done the job. It was time to grasp at straws. He asked his contact, a small-time crook and long-time acquaintance of Matches if he knew of a place called Tilri. The man reddened slightly.

"Uh, yeah, maybe I heard about it. Why?"

"Can you tell me where it is?"

"No, and I sure as hell ain't going there wit you. Ask one of those nice ladies over there, buddy"

The man pointed to a group of prostitutes by the entrance. Matches Malone sauntered over to them and asked them about Tilri. A large redhead answered for the group as she stepped closer to him.

"I could take you there honey, but that kinda stuff'll cost extra"

"This is more business than pleasure, so how about five dollars and you tell me where it is?"

She gave him a weird look but a sleazy grin later and a "Maybe I'll find you again and it'll be a different story" later, he had what he needed.

Ten minutes later, just before midnight, the Batman was running towards an old factory with new decorations. He had heard music as he left the Batmobile, but as he came closer, there was nothing but silence. On the building was sprayed the name Tilri. It was exactly midnight so Batman abandoned all subtlety and kicked open the front door. Dozens of heads turned in the direction of the noise. He scanned the room for anything suspicious, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but people clad in leather, people wearing collars, people wielding whips and people in cages. All staring at him with utter confusion radiating off them. It finally clicked in Batman's mind. Tilri. Of course. Tilri was an anagram for Il rit, he laughs.

He left the club. As he made his way to the Batmobile, he noticed a shed not far off. It had a doughnut painted on its door. With an annoyed grunt, Batman sprinted towards the shed. He could hear the lyrics "Get down on it" blasting from the club.

As he reached the door he noticed there was something written beneath the doughnut painting.

_Loser's ahead_

He kicked open the door, ready for anything. Even the shotgun that hung from the ceiling with a rope connecting the trigger to the doorknob, the shotgun that was in the process of unleashing hell in the general direction of his face. With lightning reflexes he threw himself to the ground and rolled into the shed. When he stood, he saw his reflection in the mirror. His bat-ears had been blown clean off. He could fit perfectly into the crowd at the club now. Not that he wanted to.

Batman noticed a hatch on the floor and opened it. He made his way down the stairwell. He was in a corridor, on the far side was a ladder leading up, and on both sides of it were open doors. He silently made his way to the end of the hallway and stopped by one of the doorways. He could hear voices coming from inside.

Batman threw a smoke pellet into the room and rushed in, quickly disposing of his adversaries with a flurry of blows. There were only three gangsters lying unconscious on the floor, so one of them was probably nearby.

He entered the other room. There, in a typical executioner's chair was the still warm corpse of Councilman Rafe.

Someone opened the hatch on top of the ladder.

"Guys? Guys? Shit!"

The hoodlum didn't come to check on his comrades but opted to flee. Batman raced up the ladder. He would not let him escape.

As he jumped out of the hole and onto the street, Batman took in his surroundings. He was in a tight alley, filled mostly with trash bags. A bewildered looking bum was staring at him. And there, rounding the far corner, was his target. Batman sprinted after him.

A few moments later, the bum went down the ladder with a chuckle.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Kobra is something from G.I. Joe I think.

The "losers ahead" bit is from TAS.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters

AN: I've grown kinda bored of the buildup romance, so Harley snaps now. Too quick to be believable you say? Bah! Love conquers all and besides, since when is Batman about realism?

Here I also finally reveal the villain(not that it hasn't been blatantly obvious who it is)

Anyway, please review.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley slept fitfully that night. She felt more real in her dreams than while she was awake. Every dream was more vivid than the last, every time she awoke, reality was more confusing.

All the dreams were similar, every single one followed a similar story. In one dream he kicked down her door and whisked her away, out of her meaningless and empty life, to some wonderland where they lived happily ever after. In another, he rescued her from a mugger in a dark alley, leading her back into the light, where he proposed to her in the heavy rain. Of course she said yes.

It was all so very clear, even though the dreams were silly they still spoke the truth. Her current life was imprisonment, Joker was freedom. Life with him would not be perfect, it would not be fun all the time, but it would still beat regular existence. There would be violence, but there had always been violence. It would simply be more intimate.

She would undoubtedly feel more pain than she had ever felt before, fear like she had never felt before, darkness like she had never seen before. But it would be worth it. Feeling pain was far better than feeling nothing.

All the things she had feared before were nothing more than a footnote now. They were a small price to pay for love, for passion, for joy, for life. For the first time since she had been born, Harley was going to live. And it would be beautiful.

When morning came she felt a calm unlike ever before. A new day, a new person. She tried on her old Halloween costume. A harlequin costume, it should put a smile on his face. She had bought it as a joke,because it fit her name. Now it simply seemed right.

She had looked through her notes again, just to kill time. Funny how she had believed every word he said when she was near him. When she looked at the story now, it was the most unconvincing lie she had ever seen. He probably thought she was a complete ditz. Story of her life.

But the stories weren't just stories. They were more like poetry. They didn't tell the truth, they didn't try to justify him. The core message was all that mattered. He promised darkness, terror, pleasure and romance. Maybe he himself didn't know who he used to be, whatever the case it did not really matter. He spoke of breaking ones' shackles, becoming something more than the tiny unimportant speck that everyone was, someth, becoming something else entirely. She would throw everything away, strip herself of her stature, break all rules she had formerly known, all for love. She'd reinvent herself and embrace absolute freedom, achieve nirvana, focus her chi or whatever. She would not stay in her carefully planned life and rot.

She spent the rest of the day preparing. Busting the most notorious criminal in the city out would not be an easy task. But it shouldn't be impossible if she put her mind to it. Their love would not be caged and it would not be controlled. She would free him, no matter the cost, and she would stick by him, for better or worse. Till death do them apart.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10:00 A.M.

Bruce could hear Alfred coming down the stairs, probably holding a tray of food. Probably going to suggest he get some sleep, relax, or something that he was currently incapable of doing.

Alfred stopped at his side and lowered the tray.

"Sandwich, sir?"

He grunted and grabbed one. Best not to speak, he didn't want to risk snapping at his best friend. It was of no use, he could see by Alfred's expression that his anger was radiating off him.

"Something wrong, Master Bruce?"

"It's nothing, Alfred. Just the usual"

Alfred acknowledged his unspoken wishes and went back upstairs.

Bruce thought of the events of the night. Shortly after he had caught the last thug, Batman had forced him to try extreme bungee jumping, threatened to create a rumor that he was a snitch and used all his skill at intimidation, but to no avail.

All he got out of the thug were vague details. He went through the interrogation in his mind.

"P-please don' kill me man! I ain't done nothing, nothing! He threatened me! I had no choice!"

"Who threatened you?"

"The d-dude, man! Never said who he was, just what he w-wanted us to do!"

"How did he give you orders? Didn't you see him then?"

"No, he j-just, sent letters. The first one he sent me a list of everyone I owed money to, saying he had taken care of it. And to make sure I didn't say no to 'im, he sent me pictures of my sister, of her at work, at the grocery store and when she came home. He'd followed her the whole day man! I was fucking scared man! I had no choice! Just said to come to this shed, the one you was just in. Talked to us through a radio, left the money in little bags for us to take when we came back. That's all I know, I swear! I never harmed nobody!"

"How long have you been working for him?"

"Mebbe 'bout two weeks"

At that point Batman knocked him out and went back into the tunnel. But this time there was something new. On a wall by Rafe's corpse someone had sprayed a few letters and two lines of numbers.

_G.C._

_8-1-18-22-5-25_

_4-5-14-20_

It did not take him long to crack this time. Gotham Cemetery, Harvey Dent.

When he came to the cemetery, Harvey's coffin had been dug up and pried open. The police were already at the scene, Gordon among them. A few news reporters too, eagerly looking for a juicy story. Things were going to hell in a handbasket.

He waited for an hour, hoping to get a glimpse at the next message, but there were too many people, too many cameras rolling. All he could see was a plastic skeleton in the coffin. Gordon left, accompanied by too many officers for Batman to get information out of him. The crime scene was left with dozens of cops and the reporters showed no signs of leaving.

He followed Gordon all the way to the Mayor's office and listened in on their conversation. They only spoke of the severity of the incident, Gordon did not mention anything interesting. The Mayor was outraged by the theft of Dent's body. He wanted Gordon to hold a press conference with him, to reassure the public and look good for the cameras.

They were in a tight spot. Currently only a handful of people knew of Dent, which meant the police force would be given the task of recovering his body, making them less efficient at keeping order. Of course they would never find the body, making the public think even less of the police force. If this adversary eventually exposed the secret, everything would crumble. Gordon would be fired, Dent's reputation would be destroyed and Gotham would lose hope. The criminals would win, all public servants and officers of the law would know that their very lives would be in danger if they so much as raised a finger against the mob. All Batman had accomplished would be for naught.

He hated this; someone was killing people and making a show of it, and he had failed to stop them. His only leads were clues left for the sole purpose of taunting him, his city was starting to feel fear again, and there was still more to come.

He felt helpless. For every step forward he moved the city, someone else came and moved it two steps back. There seemed to be no hope left.

But he had come too far to stop now. He was worried, but he would not fear. He would not surrender. There was always hope. His opponent would eventually slip up, and Batman would be there, ready to bring an end to this.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley checked her watch. Four o'clock. Her last session as an employee of Arkham Asylum. It seemed utterly pointless, seeing as how he had cured her and not the other way around. But she didn't really have much else to do and seeing him once before the break-out should calm her nerves.

The guards led him in and strapped him to the seat. He smiled at them as they left.

"Hi, Mistah J"

"You look like shit, Harley"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Uhmm"

"Never mind"

"Okay"

They just sat there for a few minutes, staring at each other. Joker seemed perplexed.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"No"

Another pause.

"Ya know what? I think you love me"

"Yeah, Mistah J"

"But you've only known me for four days, that's crazy, and you know that coming from me, that's saying something"

"Mhmm"

"Harley, this conversation is annoyingly one-sided"

The room went quiet again. Should she? Oh, what the heck. She stood from her chair and walked over to him with a stern look. Then she jumped into his lap with a giggle.

"You wanna go out tonight, Mistah J?"

He looked astonished for a fraction of a second, then broke into a smile.

"You bet your sweet….smile I do, Harls. Now c'mere"

They spent the rest of the session, at least 35 minutes, making out. Probably a Arkham record.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was ten in the evening and Bruce had just turned on the news. The theft of Harvey Dent's body was the only thing they spoke of.

A few hours earlier, he had managed to sneak into the new police headquarters to take a look at the next clue. A note had been stuck to the plastic skeleton.

_I weaken all men_

_For hours each day_

_I show you strange visions_

_When you're away_

_I take you by night_

_By day take you back_

_None suffer to have me_

_But do from my lack_

He had even had Alfred search for the riddle on the internet to see if he had gotten it right. He had. The answer was Sleep. Which did not give him much.

He then checked the coffin. On its surface someone had carved another message. One line was carved onto the lid, two on the bottom and one on each side. Six of them were numbered.

_1. I mout ate kwoe ar yom feath se eskit _

_2. __puB ei fee den e Ihus kot tayn _

_3. ace seel tyewi Ys no prumlwin_

_4. Egad uc ovo serl wyno_

_5. I twher adae lek vyhe, tarwel wil tehrb_

_6. Bet himhetu le, toe would dect fru woctefnihl?_

_Don't you just love me?_

Even though he had never met this man, Bruce hated him with a passion.

Now, two hours later, he sat in the cave and had yet to crack it. He would have to install a program to decode anagrams for the future, so he could focus on some real detective work.

But suddenly something interesting happened on the tv screen. A man in an oddly colored suit strolled up to the news anchor and held out a bunch of papers. Most of his face was concealed by a bowler hat. Bruce leaned forward in his chair, jaw slacking slightly.

"Who the hell is this?!," the news anchor asked someone off camera.

The man leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She paled visibly, even through all the make-up, and grabbed the papers from his hand.

"Umm… ah…you want me to introduce you somehow or j-just read it straight away?," she asked him.

"Oh, never mind," he answered as he gently pushed her out of the way. Bruce was already revving up the engine of the Batmobile.

"Good evening, Gotham! I am only here to say a few words. But I'm afraid those words will not be a source of comfort, for you see, I come bearing tragic news. The authorities have deemed it best not to tell you, to make sure no-one panics. Well, I disagree with the authorities on that issue. I think you deserve the truth, just this once. You, the good citizens of our fair city, have yet to be told of a most unfortunate event. Councilman Rafe met his demise last night, and I am oh so sorry, but believe me: It serves your best interests. And now I move on to my main announcement: I hereby invite the GCPD and its most wanted criminal, the rodent to end all rodents, to the greatest show this city has ever seen! Au revoir!"

He stood up, bowed, and slowly walked off-screen. The television screen went static. Alfred started working on the anagrams, more to calm his nerves than to help Bruce.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took the police only 5 minutes to reach the site after they had seen the broadcast, and another three minutes to form blockades all around the skyscraper that housed Gotham City News. Gordon stepped up, raising a megaphone.

"We have you completely surrounded! Come out with your hands in the air!"

The man in green stepped out, a strange looking cane in one hand. He took a few steps forward and stopped. Everyone and everything went still, nothing moving apart from the man's, fluttering slightly in the wind.

"Get down on the ground, hands where we can see them!"

The man raised one hand to check his watch. For a few moments nothing happened. Something bad was coming, Gordon could just feel it.

Then, all hell broke loose. The ground shook and Gordon went sprawling. It was as if everything was in slow-motion, flaming police cars swirling in the air before being reclaimed by gravity, crashing to the ground with a thundering noise. He felt dizzy, he felt the warmth of his own blood on his hands and his eyes seemed unable to focus on anything. He could see the vague outlines of a figure coming through a cloud of smoke. Gordon reached for his gun, but stopped when he realized who it was.

He was lifted off the ground and carried through the smoke and burning debris over to an ambulance that had just come to a screeching halt at the sight of them. The last thing he saw before passing out was Batman running away, a few relatively unharmed cops gawking as he passed them. Gordon knew his city was in good hands.

Dr. Elsep sat in his dark office in deep thought, the light of a candle playing on his face. The longer he worked at the asylum, the more he had started liking the dark. It helped him think. He had no idea what had happened downtown only ten minutes ago.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had been arguing with himself ever since it started, but he had finally come to a decision. Harleen had rekindled a spark within him that he thought he had lost forever, but the price was simply too much. At first he had been willing to sacrifice anything just to feel alive again, but his short time with her had made him see the world for what it truly was. He had matured during their encounters, she had torn him out of his lonely misery, and in a way she had saved him, even if that wasn't her goal. Now it was his turn to return the favor. In just four days he had noticed a change in her. She seemed like only the shell of the woman that burst into his office a few days ago. He had been foolish to let her treat the Joker, selfish to let that madman tear her mind apart, but there was still time to save her. First thing tomorrow he would tell her she was off the case. She would hate him for it, but it was the only way to redeem himself. Elsep would miss their…sessions, but there was more to life than that. He practically owed her his sanity, he would not cost her hers. He stood from his chair and turned on the light, at peace with himself for the first time in twenty years, determined to prevent a disaster in the making.

Alas, it was not to be. He felt a strange smell fill the room and dropped unconscious to the floor shortly after.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman could find no trace of the mystery man anywhere. It was as if he had simply vanished. Alfred's voice came over the radio.

"I believe I've pieced the clue together, sir. It goes:"

_I make you weak at the worst of times_

_But in the end I keep you safe_

_You will sweat in my presence _

_Even as you grow cold_

_I dwell with the weak, rarely the brave_

_But without me, who could tell the difference?_

If not for Alfred on the radio, Batman would have cursed. Fear.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan Crane sat in his cell, killing time by thinking of old times, when the asylum was in more capable hands, namely his own. Not much had changed admittedly, but at least there had been a point to the terror of a stay at Arkham during his reign. Now fear was simply administered through the crude machinations of the brainless guards, whose progress in the art of intimidation was so slow that it was painful to watch.

Speaking of the devil, one of the aforementioned simpletons was standing on the other side of the glass.

"What?", the Scarecrow spat at him.

The guard slid open the glass door.

"I apologize if I'm being too forward, but might I persuade you to come home with me?"

Crane contemplated this turn of events for a few seconds, before standing and walking over to the man. He would risk the chance of date-rape for the possibility of freedom.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley came in through a side door that led to the kitchen, trying to avoid detection. Luck was not with her. A guard was helping himself to some of the asylum food. How could anyone in their right mind eat that stuff?

"Dr Quinzel? Forget something?"

"Yeah, something like that"

She walked over to him and as soon as she was close enough she drove a syringe into his neck.

"Sorry", she said to the man as he slipped to the floor. Then she remembered that he was a complete douchebag and gave him a playful kick to the face. It felt liberating.

She stepped out into a corridor and moved slowly and gracefully(at least in her mind) through the asylum. Everywhere she went she saw passed out ex-colleagues. Something big was happening.

Since everyone was fast asleep she ran all the way to the High Security Ward. Hmmm…ScareCrane was gone. Coming to the conclusion that she couldn't care less, she resumed her journey.

She came to the Joker's cell and took a quick look around. She opened the door with a huge grin on her face.

The Joker stepped out, not the least bit surprised.

"Errr..hi, Puddin'?"

"Hiya, Harls. Ready to go?"

Mistah J was obviously still disoriented from the beating he received yesterday. And sleepy and surprised and in need of fresh air. He'd express his everlasting gratitude later. They made their way to the get-away car, a cheap rental with a purple interior. That way no-one could track them because of her car. Mistah J did not compliment her devious cleverness. Oh, well.

As soon as they had left the Narrows and stopped in a discreet parking lot in the industrial district, Joker pounced on her. Life was good.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a stately mansion a few miles from Gotham, a man sat staring at a TV, absent-mindedly scribbling something with one hand. Scarecrow sat close by, amazed by the man's blatant narcissism. Throughout the night they sat this way, and throughout the night the news stations broadcast coverage of the crisis and the mysterious man behind it, whom they had dubbed "The Riddler". He kind of liked his new name.

Below another stately mansion, Bruce was too busy brooding to watch the news. He had let Gordon, the only honest man left among the authorities, get hurt. If he lost him in addition to Dent, everything would come tumbling down.

In a cheap rental in a dark parking lot in a even darker city, two lovers lay in the backseat. Neither knew about the disaster downtown, and neither would have cared. In a way they had both been freed that night, and things were looking up, for them if not Gotham.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please excuse my crass humor(The date-rape thing), I just can't help myself.


	7. Chapter 7

AN:I couldn't find a good spot to cram the explanation for the Sleep riddle, so I'll just explain it here. Elsep is an anagram for sleep, hence the knockout gas. This isn't the best of chapters but it will have to do.

I've also decided that Scarecrow no longer needs the funky blue flower to make his toxin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sergeant Harvey Bullock pulled up to the dark building and stepped out of his car, taking a moment to stare at the ominous structure. Arkham Asylum seemed to stare back.

The police had blockaded all exits from the asylum, but Harvey knew it was hopeless. Both Joker and Scarecrow were long gone. It looked like the city was about to be taken on another ride.

Stepping into the lobby, he was immediately greeted by Dr. Elsep. They walked to his office in silence. Elsep was sweating profusely, repeatedly dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

They entered his office, dark and smelly, and after Elsep had opened a window, they both sat down.

"So tell me what happened, doc"

"We don't really know. Almost every member of my staff reports the same thing: a strange smell and loss of consciousness. Every single employee was taken out and some of the cameras were destroyed, so we don't have any footage of the escape"

"Almost everyone?"

"Three of our staff did not fall victim to the gas, as far as we know. Poor Jeff had a syringe in his neck when we found him, along with a broken nose. He hasn't come to yet. And another guard is missing, Kirillov. And we haven't been able to reach Dr. Quinzel"

"This is an inside job, doc. Which one do you think is more likely?"

"I...honestly can't say"

"Ever see this man before?", he held up a picture taken from the news broadcast, showing most of the Riddler's face.

"Yes, that's him, Kirillov"

Earlier that day, Harvey himself had recognized the man on the photo. It was Pierre Mystère, the neighbour whose apartment had gone explodey. Renee had identified him as Edward Nashton, a janitor at the precinct. Stephens knew him as Miguel Cervantes, the man who had verified Mr. Mystère's alibi. They'd looked up on all names, found what they were sure were his fingerprints at the station and checked for them in the database. Mr Nashton Cervantes Kirillov Mystère had apparently erased himself from all records. The man no longer existed. Harvey let out an annoyed grunt.

"I'll need his file", he added. Not that it was likely they'd learn anything from it.

"Of course"

He wouldn't waste time hunting for ghosts, his best bet was to send out a search party to find Dr. Quinzel.

After a short doughnut break, Harvey went on with his investigation. He'd called the hospital as well. The commish was still out, but in no real danger.

Which meant that he was currently the boss. He didn't like it one bit. He was a lot of things, but Bullock was definitely not a people person.

His interrogation techniques did wonders on hardened criminals, but the whole politeness that was required when talking to victims just felt unnatural to him. But he would still do some of them himself, just to make sure there were no over-sights due to rookies or crooked cops.

Most of the interviews were completely pointless, no-one seemed to have much to say about him.

"Nice guy" and "Didn't really know him" were the most common answers. The guy's superiors were said to have gone easy on him, but Bullock couldn't get any answers as to why out of them. Only one person seemed to have really talked to him, apart from the absent Dr. Quinzel, a guard who had gone with Kirillov on the few patrols he actually had to do.

"A really weird guy. He could be the best partner you could imagine, or completely introverted, depending on his mood. On the bad nights he was almost always muttering something under his breath. First it was all in French. I understood some of it, but couldn't understand what he was talking about. When I asked him what he was saying, he just evaded the question and the next time he started muttering it was in some other language, Russian or something. On the good nights he never stopped talking, chatted up nearly everyone, even some of the patients. Flirted with every nurse he encountered and buttered up every superior we came across. Silver-tongued enough to sell paintings to the blind, I tell ya. Creepy smart as well, liked to play chess against everyone during the break. Most of the time it was around twenty matches simultaneously. Won every single one, every single time. Never could understand why he worked here. Guess now we know, huh?"

Why the hell did all these guys have to be geniuses? And why did they always have such a passion for wanton destruction? Probably something in the water.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan looked around the empty warehouse he'd used during his shameful drug-dealing days. Those times had mostly been terrible, dealing with slimy brainless mobsters on a regular basis and getting almost no research done, but there were a few bright points to sweeten the memory. Such as this place, which had apparently been left untouched, through some miracle. He'd have to recruit some thugs, acquire some chemicals, get a car and make a new mask, and then he'd be ready to continue his work. The only thing that would be risky was raising funds. An extortion ring perhaps, equip his buffoons with small doses of the toxin and they would be the most intimidating and efficient collectors in the business. He would have to alter the concoction, so that it packed a punch powerful enough to break people's wills, while being short-lasting enough so that they wouldn't be out of it for more than an hour. Things were finally looking up. It would only take a couple of days to set up, hopefully Batman would still have his hands full with the Riddler by that time.

He wasn't sure why the Riddler had broken him out, but it looked as if he had no more interest in him. After sitting in that mansion for the whole night, he had simply driven him back to town. After dropping him off where he wanted to go, he had simply said he should "do his thing", given him a pistol and driven away after giving him his "business card", a small book with riddles, a phone-number and a message written on the cover:

_For those times when you need a drink and a friend or cash and a hand._

_Your friend,_

_Mr. Green  
_

From what little he had seen, Riddler's plans were probably as utterly pointless as the Joker's. He wasn't acting out of greed, revenge or a desire for power. But power couldn't be completely ruled out, just because things didn't look that way to him didn't mean it was out of the question.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley looked around the quaint motel room. It wasn't much, but compared to Arkham it was a five star hotel. Mistah J was busy decorating the walls with plans in various colors. She'd tried watching him, but he'd snarled at her that it wasn't ready. Then he'd drawn a picture of her hanging from a noose, just to make himself perfectly clear. So she left him alone and tried jumping on the bed for a while, to uh, check the quality. Then she found a book and made a few paper birds from its pages. When she grew bored of that she started drawing on the wall opposite of Mistah J's plans. She drew two ponies looking at each other with a big heart over their heads. Something was missing, so she added a jesters cap to one and put a handsome grin on the other. Then she made the grinning pony obscenely well-endowed. As soon as she had put her finishing touches on the masterpiece, Mistah J tackled her from behind. He had a playful spark in his eyes.

Meanwhile, at her old apartment, Batman was reading her notebook. She was definitely strange, even before she met the Joker. But describing Arkham as "excitingly dull" and "being in seventh heaven" over the prospect of meeting the Joker wasn't really proof that she had had any part in the break-out, and it seemed highly unlikely that a regular woman would be able to evade the dozens of security cameras at Arkham. And she was almost certainly not in league with the Riddler, so she couldn't have known which cameras had been disabled. Batman was sure he'd find her cold body in a matter of days. What had Elsep been thinking, letting her near the Joker?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler was having the time of his life. Building his magnificent deathtrap was going slowly but surely. Slowly because he had to make sure everything was perfect and because he was constantly getting new ideas. Sometimes his genius amazed even himself.

He was listening to the radio as he worked, zoning out everything that wasn't about him, people's reactions to him, his "crazy" plan, his reign of terror, his glory, or Batman. Pop-psychologists were brought in and asked for their silly opinions. Apparently he was doing this out of need for recognition, the riddles were simply a compulsion,and his genius madness. He couldn't help smiling. Of course they would see it as madness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost noon, but Scarecrow felt no fatigue. The recruitment drive had been fairly successful, he now had fifteen goons in his employ. Some old faces, some new, all but a handful thick as bricks and just as tough. He scheduled their hours, so that there were always at least five baboons in the warehouse with him. He picked the room that had served as a monitor room as his private room and booby-trapped it. It might not stop the Bat but it would at least slow him down.

The room that had served as an office would be used to store his test subjects in. It wasn't sound-proof, but screams wouldn't be heard onto the street. It would also serve as a reminder of who was the boss, preventing dissension among his ruffians.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman sat in his cave, staring at pictures of the people he was looking for. He had no idea where any of them were.

During the night he had found the motel room Joker had stayed in. Joker had torched the place before leaving, but the motel owner's body left no question as to who was behind this. Joker's trail had gone cold.

Riddler and Scarecrow seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, no signs of any activity in the city.

He had no idea what they were doing and what they were planning. Most of the underground had ground to a halt when they heard of the Joker's escape, so there were no pressing matters to distract him from his search.

But someone still had to murder five high-ranking employees of Daggett Industries, just to make the night even more of a failure. All were poisoned at the restaurant they were dining at. The chef had committed suicide, making him a top suspect, but the letter he left didn't say anything about the poisonings. It said something about the most beautiful woman the chef had ever seen, his one true love and how he could not live without her. Batman let out a sigh. His city never ceased to confound him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler had just put the finishing touches on his maze. This deathtrap was surely the greatest this world had ever seen. He couldn't wait to see what the Batman thought of it. Dusting imaginary dust off his hands, he stood, a content smile on his face. He checked his watch, still too soon to send the riddle. He could lay the finishing touches on the next riddles in the meantime. Yes, that was sure to amuse him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley let out a long sigh of satisfaction, sprawled on the bed of the new hideout. What a honeymoon. Well, technically it wasn't a honeymoon since they weren't married, but who really cared?

She would have thought she had died and gone to heaven if not for the bruises. So she'd just have to settle for calling it paradise.

The only thing that disappointed her was not waking up next to him. But he was a busy man, her Mistah J. He marched back into the bedroom, wearing only underwear with smileys on, a scowl fixed on his face.

"Harls, what do you think of this Riddler guy?"

"Who?"

"I know! It's almost like he's trying to steal my thunder. Greatest show this city has ever seen?! Who does he think he is, Groucho?! And breaking Scary out, but not me. Who does that?! What sort of lowlife is this?!"

"Gee, Mistah J, you're right"

"This schmuck needs to be taught a lesson, but how?"

He scratched his chin and his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"I must become a creature of the night, something that strikes fear into the heart of this guy! But what?"

As if in response, a giant bat flew straight at the window with a loud Thunk!, before slowly sliding out of view.

"Been done", he said, without looking in the direction of the window. Harley wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head, or if he could simply see through everything. She'd have to check the next time he fell asleep.

"Never mind, he probably has coulrophobia anyway. Find him, pumpkin, I've got some stuff to do"

Joker picked up a laptop and threw it over to her. It hit her directly in the forehead. He looked disappointed.

"I thought you said you used to be a top basketball player"

"Ouch, ouch, ouch. I was an acrobat, Mistah J"

He shrugged and left the room, whistling a merry tune. Harley rubbed her head for a few moments before opening the laptop. On the screen was a riddle. Oh boy, this was going to be boring.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bullock sat at his desk, staring at a computer screen. Dent's body hadn't been found, Gordon was doing better, but still in no shape to return to the job. And now the Riddler had sent a new clue. He had hacked into nineteen websites and left the same riddle in every one:

_I am not alive _

_But I grow_

_I don't have lungs_

_But I need air_

_I don't have a mouth_

_But water kills me_

Bullock hated riddles. After searching on the internet, he found the answer on a riddle website. The answer was Fire. Now he just needed to figure out where the fire would be. Every site had a list of the other sites that showed the riddle, so maybe the websites themselves were a clue?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman, like Bullock, sat and stared at his own screen. He would have to figure this out before evening came, but his sleep deprived mind was having no luck. He heard the door to the mansion opening. When is a door not a door?

This case was starting to mess with his mind. He would have let his head hit the keyboard and let out a frustrated groan if Alfred hadn't been close enough to hear it. Maybe he could allow himself a few hours of sleep. Not like he was making any progress as it was.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Kirillov is a character from Demons, by Dostoyevsky. Cervantes is the author of Don Quixote. A door is not a door when it's ajar. The giant bat flying at the Joker's window is similar to the Batman origins in comics. Groucho was a comedian.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I've decided to rate this M to stay on the safe side, due to Scarecrow being mean and the presence of naked clowns.

I really couldn't come up with a better name for a club, so sue me. The action sequence is pretty clumsy, but I don't think I can do any better at the moment.

Review. I know where you live.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was at half past eleven in the evening when Batman finally figured it out. Riddler had hacked into 19 websites, today was Friday the 19th, and one of the websites was the website of a club called the FridayFunk. It was currently closed due to a firefight that had broken out a few days earlier.

He pulled up to the place ten minutes before midnight. The club was situated close to a poor sector of town, filled with tightly packed apartments. If the wind blew in the wrong direction the flames could spread at a devastating speed.

As he neared the club, he could hear something whistling through the air. He dived forward and brought his cape around him as a Molotov cocktail smashed on the ground behind him. He opened the front door, but the interior was already ablaze. He fired his grapnel gun at a billboard and flew up. Riddler still had the higher ground and Batman could see him throwing another Molotov. He could also faintly hear his voice, it sounded like Riddler was singing.

Batman jumped over to an adjacent building, moments before the Molotov eviscerated half the billboard. He took a running jump, spreading out his cape to glide over to the other roof. Riddler threw one last bottle. It missed him by inches, exploding on the street below.

Batman landed in a roll, quickly standing and closing the distance between them. Riddler threw a dagger, which bounced harmlessly off of the armor. He was so close, just a few more steps and this would all be over. He was seconds away from laying his fists into Riddler when the floor gave way under him. He barely caught the ledge, dangling above the blazing inferno down in the club. As he slowly pulled himself up he could see the Riddler half running, half dancing away. At least he had stopped singing.

He started running after him. The Riddler crossed the rooftops via planks, but they burst into flames seconds after he'd crossed them, so Batman had to jump across the rooftops. He threw a batarang, hitting the Riddler in the leg. He fell to his knees, but instantly got back up, threw another dagger at the Batman and kept running.

"Stop this! People could get killed!", Batman shouted after him, trying to appeal to his better nature.

"That's a constant!", Riddler yelled over his shoulder.

A small bomb went off by Batman's side, almost knocking him down. He kept on sprinting and raised another batarang. Smoke was starting to rise ahead of him and he could only vaguely make out the Riddler's silhouette. He threw the batarang anyway, but it did not find its target.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?", he shouted.

"Everything! What does the miser spend, the spendthrift save, the rich need, and the poor have in abundance? Everything and nothing, friend!"

He could barely see his hand at this point, and bombs were still going off around him. He had to keep the Riddler talking, just to be able to follow him. Eventually he would be out of the Riddler's little obstacle course, all he had to do was keep up.

"Where are Joker and Scarecrow?", he shouted into the smoke.

"In a newly created tomb in the suburbs and a carcass of capitalism, respectively, if that's any help"

Another dagger came flying through the mist, this time grazing his shoulder. He pushed himself to go faster.

"This can't go on forever, Riddler! When you slip up, you'll get a lifetime in prison! Making a game out of killing innocent people is wrong!"

"All in the eye of the beholder, friend! And no-one is innocent"

Looking down on other people seemed to be a trait all these self-proclaimed geniuses shared. But the voice sounded closer this time. He was finally gaining on his foe.

Fate, or the bomb's motion sensors to be precise, decided this was just the time to blow Batman off of the roof. As he fell, the Batman was equally worried about the Riddler's plan and the chance of someone seeing his ungraceful tumble.

He landed on something mostly soft and a lid slammed shut above him. He had landed in a dumpster. His last thought before losing consciousness was that at least he was concealed.

Meanwhile, Riddler was sliding down the stairs into his arena. He ran through the maze and into the control room, switching all systems on and waited. Five minutes passed. He waited some more. Another five minutes passed.

Where the hell was he? Had he heard some damsel in distress screaming? Hardly, Riddler would have heard it as well. This was definitely not the type to run away. Nothing bigger was happening elsewhere, as far as he knew. Maybe one of the bombs had actually caught him? Impossible, this wasn't the type to die easily either. Maybe he was unconscious somewhere, helpless on the ground where some worthless wretch might stumble upon him and end the dream before Riddler even had a chance to live it? He shook with fury at the mere thought of it.

He started running for the door, but froze in his steps as he touched the door. Maybe the Bat was trying to wait him out? Well, then he'd just inform him that he had hostages. The police would be milling around the scene of the first fire, slowly making their way over to the scene of the last explosion, which would still not lead them to the maze.

He bolted through the door. Hopefully the Bat had been knocked out by the last bomb, which was only a block from the maze. All he had to do was beat the cops to it, not too hard due to his… donations to the police force, and drag the Batman into the maze before he woke up.

He looked around the street. No sign of life, no pointy ears sticking out of the darkness. Only some girl in a delivery van eating ice-cream. But that could hardly be the Batman in disguise, could it?

In the car, the young woman picked up a radio as the Riddler started running.

"Clown 2 to Clown 1, over"

"What, Harley?"

"I've got the Leprechaun in my sights, no sign of Nosferatu. Moving in, over"

"You clever little minx! Bring the package home, Clown 2"

Harley beamed as she started the van and drove up to the exhausted Riddler. Only understandable after his little rooftop marathon. And the singing too. Nice enough voice. Seven out of ten. She rolled down her window.

"Need a ride?"

"No, thank you"

"You sure, sugar?"

"I'm busy, go away", he looked her way as he said this, and was met with a cloud of gas to the face.

As he slowly slid to the ground he raised a funky-looking cane and pointed it at her. A patch of metal slipped aside with a clang and something shot out. Harley looked frantically around, before seeing herself in the rear-view mirror. There was a big dart sticking through one of her pigtails. It looked exotic, like a sort of a battle-scar without the ugliness. Neat-o.

She stepped out and slowly dragged the Riddler into the back of the van. This would have been a lot easier if Mistah J had given her one of the henchmen. He probably just didn't like the thought of her with another man that wasn't unconscious. He was so cute.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scarecrow looked at the couple bound together on two chairs before him. He'd accompanied his collectors to see how the new variation worked when he saw them. They were walking down the street, holding hands and being generally nauseating. A typical jock and a typical cheerleader, just like the people who'd tortured him when he was younger. He was really doing the world a favor by destroying their minds, allowing people like this to breed was simply inhumane.

They were shaking slightly, but the real fear had yet to set in. His whole body tingled with anticipation. This was all in the name of science of course, but who said you couldn't enjoy your work? He removed their blindfolds.

"Hello", he began, a small smile on his face, his voice sweet as sugar.

They stuttered something inaudible, the jock's shaking increasing slightly. His reputation apparently preceded him. Maybe they didn't recognize his face but they did recognize the strange mask, and the rags he was wearing were a hint as well. It was a nice feeling, fame.

"Tell me your names"

He would begin without the toxin, testing his own capabilities and seeing if the fear would be greater when the toxin hit if the subject was already terrified.

"F-fuck you man! I ain't afraid of you!"

He put his burlap mask on and walked over to a table in the corner. He picked up a rusty sickle and walked back over to them. It was perhaps not as fitting as a scythe but still easier to wield and more suited for inflicting small cuts.

"Can't we t-talk about this? My mom is loaded, man, no kidding!"

"You're absolutely right, there's nothing humorous about this situation. Now tell me your names"

He held the sickle an inch from the jock's sweaty face.

"T-tommy Elliott"

"Kate"

The girl seemed the braver of the two. How delightful.

"I'm Scarecrow. A pleasure to meet you. But I'm afraid money isn't any good here"

They paled even more. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, hopelessness flooding their faces. There was such fascinating detail in people's faces as they experienced fear. Their mind constantly trying to find a way out, constantly coming to the conclusion that it was hopeless. Despair was enchanting to watch.

"So what do you want?", the girl piped up.

"I just want you to participate in an experiment. Just answer my questions. What do you know of Arkham?"

"It's where they keep creeps like you"

The insulting stage. Trying to put him off balance by not giving up, trying to strike back at her tormentor, no matter how weak a strike it may be. He knew just the thing for it. He went back to the table and retrieved a box. He put it into the girl's lap and opened it. A huge spider crawled out, resulting in an ear-piercing screech, followed by violent shaking and choked sobs.

"You sick fuck!", the gallant boyfriend spat at him.

"Since you know so little of the place, I will enlighten you", he began, as he slowly made a shallow cut into the boy's left chin."Arkham is a place where they dissect your mind, try to find the problem and put an end to it. That never actually happens, but it's what they try to do. Sadly, I have been deposed, so there isn't a single competent doctor there, which means you never leave and never recover from whatever it is that's ailing you. So you sit there and rot, rarely seeing daylight, daily eating something that is probably lethal if consumed in large quantities, and being drugged into a stupor, occasionally being beaten by guards or other patients. It is, in a way, hell on earth. But not to worry, you'll probably never go there. You look like healthy young kids with a bright future ahead of you"

He took the spider off of the girl's lap, to her obvious relief. Then he put it on top of her head and held her face so she couldn't shake it off. The room was once again filled with heavenly screams. The boy started trying to break free, but it was of no use. The chains around their feet were bolted to the floor. Scarecrow took the spider and put it down the girl's blouse, just to keep her busy while he destroyed the boyfriend.

He made another cut, this time in the boy's right eyebrow. Then he taped his eyes shut. The jock was starting to crumble and the girl was still thrashing in abject horror. Scarecrow went back to the table. This time he returned with a bottle of alcohol and poured on the boy's left shoe.

"But as we all know, life can sometimes go horribly wrong. The pressure of modern life can sometimes be too much…", he lit a match,"and you simply... snap" and dropped it on the boy. Flames engulfed the shoe and the jock lost it completely. Scarecrow stepped back to savor the moment.

Sometimes his ability to read people and find their fears amazed even himself.

Five minutes later he put out the fire and removed the spider and the tape.

And now they were at the final stage. Resignation. Their eyes were devoid of hope, no defiant words left, their spirit broken. But he was not quite finished.

"Broken as you may be, it is not quite enough to get you into Arkham. You're just victims, still sweet and innocent, not at all like some hardened killers who deserve to be in an asylum for the criminally insane. Or are you?"

He called in his goons and had them put the couple in a wooden casket, just big enough for the both of them. They were in a standing position, with almost no room to move. Scarecrow dropped a knife into the coffin and put the lid on. The moment the girl caught the knife, fear toxin filled the wooden box. For a moment no sound came from the coffin, but screams soon came from within.

There was little light, but Kate could still see the zombie that had its arms around her and was about to rip her face off. Tommy screamed as the vampire ripped his neck apart with its inhuman claws, then slumped against it as his life slipped away.

Scarecrow opened the lid and the pair dropped to the floor. He noticed the victor and drove a syringe into her neck. The last thing she saw as she slipped into unconsciousness was a disgusting Scarecrow with eight eyes saying "Enjoy Arkham".

He addressed his pale-looking goons. "Give her a gun and leave her in a dumpster by her home"

Wordlessly, his baboons obliged. He set off for his room, contemplating where to dump the corpse of the jock.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman awoke with the mother of all headaches. He sent a distress call to Alfred as he poked his head out of the dumpster. It was nearing morning and the police were here. Just what he needed.

He forced his battered body out of the dumpster and made his way up to the roofs. He escaped into an alley a few blocks from the police and slumped against a wall.

When Alfred came, he got into the car and passed out again after managing a weak "Home, Alfred"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler awoke with the grandmother of all headaches. He raised his head and took in his surroundings. He was in a room that was completely empty apart from the bed he lay on. It all came back to him, the chase and the gas. He'd been kidnapped.

He tried to move, but his hands were cuffed to one of the bedposts. He looked up, expecting to see a real challenge, after all someone who had managed to catch him would probably go to great lengths to keep him. His excitement gave way to outrage when he saw what was keeping him in place. On his wrists were pink fuzzy handcuffs. With a frown of pure disgust he removed them and got to his feet.

He took a lock pick out of one of the hidden pockets in his jacket and picked the lock on the door. He was in a living room that was not too richly furnished, with a half-eaten pizza on the table. He could hear shouting and someone hitting the walls.

He walked along the room, close to the wall, trying to make out the words. He was right next to the thumping noise now and it didn't sound like someone was arguing at all. It sounded like…

At exactly the same time as Riddler figured out what the people were shouting, a chunk of the wall gave way and he found himself face to face with two naked clowns. It was as if time stood still, him staring at the clowns and the clowns staring back.

When he finally came to his senses and made a run for it, the Joker bolted for the door leading to the living room. Thankfully the gap in the wall wasn't large enough for them to jump through. Harley Quinn covered herself up with the tablecloth and set off after them.

Riddler ran through another door and found himself in a hallway with no exit in sight. He couldn't stop to think, he had to run, run, run. But it was of no use, he could hear the clown right behind him. He looked over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't. The Joker was gaining on him.

"Wait! I give up! I'm stopping and no-one has to do anything they're going to regret!"

But it was too late. He felt Joker tackle him and saw the ground rush up to meet him. The Joker lay on top of him, panting. He felt close to panicking.

"Okay, you win. Please stand up"

"Nah, I gotta catch my breath. Harley! Get over here!" He started tracing a finger along the Riddler's face. "So, why don't ya tell me all about you"

Riddler felt like vomiting, crying, screaming and/or dying. This was the stuff of nightmares.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scarecrow took a quick look around before opening the trunk and pulling the body out. He started dragging it into Robinson Park, slowly making his way over to the old caretaker's cabin.

It was long abandoned, making it an ideal target for adventurous little children. A perfect way to spread the fear.

After leaving his victim sitting in a rocking chair with a scarecrow's hat on his head, just to make sure the numbskulls understood who was behind this, Scarecrow started walking back to his car.

Something was not right. He didn't know how he knew but it was still very real. He quickened his pace.

"What are you doing here?", a voice came from the darkness, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

He turned to see a woman standing in the shadows. He would never admit it to himself, but a shiver went up his spine.

"I don't believe that's any of your business", he replied, adding a cold glare he hoped she could see despite the dark.

"This is my park"

He was being harassed by some crazy tree-hugger. Just his luck.

"I haven't the time for this", he turned to walk away but his foot got caught in something. She was much closer now.

"I don't really care about the corpse, but you're still trespassing. Who are you?"

Her tone was threatening. Fight or flight? His dignity would not be able to stand it if he ran away from some angry fruitcake. He sprayed a large dose of the toxin straight in her face.

She seemed taken aback at first, but quickly regained composure.

"That smells awful"

His jaw dropped to the floor. How could she possibly be immune? Maybe flight was the wiser choice after all. He tried to run, but that something he had caught his foot in had slithered up his leg.

"You must be Crane"

"That's Doctor Crane"

"I might just forgive you, for a price. I could use your assistance in the foreseeable future. The nutrition is always welcome, so you can use my park as a dumping ground if you do me a favor when I need one"

His survival instinct was buried beneath pure frustration. Some silly plants were crawling up his leg, which shouldn't be possible, and the woman was wearing leaves, which was just as impossible. And now she was trying to force him into some deal. The gall of some people.

"No thank you", he spat at her.

He was starting to feel strange. Suddenly she wasn't annoying anymore, and he felt a sudden urge to help her out. He was… in love? That didn't make any sense. He was the Master of Fear, the Lord of Despair, not some love-sick puppy.

Four hours later he woke up. He was still in Robinson Park and the sun had risen. What the hell had happened? There wasn't a soul in the park, apart from him. He ran to his car, figuring this out could wait.

His car had been completely destroyed. A bicycle was leaning on its remains. Scarecrow was not amused.

But he decided, for reasons he couldn't quite fathom, that Robinson Park was the place he would go to if his operation was broken up. Which he was sure would happen sooner or later.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: The Master of Fear and Lord of Despair bits are something he says in TAS while being dragged to his cell in Arkham.

Nosferatu is a vampire from a movie by the same name.

The scene where Joker is naked on top of Riddler does not mean they're going to have sex. It's just Joker making Riddler's life miserable. Poison Ivy didn't do anything rude with Crane either, just mind control mumbo-jumbo.

A molotov cocktail is a home-made incendiary weapon, named after Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Kate is the girl Scarecrow poisoned last chapter. I also forgot to mention that Tommy Elliot, her now-dead boyfriend, is the real name of Hush. I killed him here because I can't stand him. Breaking Riddler's fingers? Trying to woo Poison Ivy? Being able to trade punches with Batman without any training or powers? He deserved to die, if you ask me.

Your eyes feel heavy. Your mind can focus on one thing and one thing only: You really want to review this story.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kate climbed out of the smelly dumpster and took a deep breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes darting wildly in all directions. There was something moving in the shadows that still lingered, she was sure of it.

She raised her gun and aimed it at the shadows… since when did she carry a gun? It was all so surreal. Why had that monster let her go? What had happened to Tommy?

She could see her house just a short distance away. Her sweet, kind and warm bed was the only thing she could think of as she started running to her house. Rain started pouring from the sky, but it wasn't water that was drenching her clothes. It was blood. Tons of it.

She ran even faster, screaming all the way, pounding her fists on the door. This was all so unreal, but there was no way she was simply dreaming this. She could feel the blood splashing on her, feel her fists slamming into the door. Someone was finally coming to answer the door.

"Kate?"

It spoke with her mother's voice, but that…_thing_ was not her mother. Its eyes were dead and unseeing, its skin made out of crawling worms, patches of the skull visible through the swirling mass of insects. She raised the gun.

"Get back!", she screamed at the thing. It took a step back and raised its hands in surprise, some of the worms falling to the floor at the sudden motion. Kate threw up on its feet.

"Kate, what's going on? Let me take that, sweetie. It's okay."

She felt hands on her shoulders and jumped back, raising the gun again. After a few seconds of trembling she stepped back. She couldn't do it, kill something that looked so much like her mother. She turned and ran, cradling the gun against her chest like a safety blanket. She had to get away, find some place to think, to make some sense of what was going on. And the blood was still pouring down, forming deep puddles on the streets.

Kate stumbled down the streets, trying to find a police station. Maybe they could help her.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler was again tied to the bed, this time a bit more securely. Not that it would stop him when the time came.

Right now, though, he was content to bide his time. He was not going to risk disrupting the clowns again during their _private affairs_. Part of his soul had already died earlier, and it was not an experience he wished to repeat.

His musings were cut short when the Joker barged into the room, a lit cigarette in his hand. He was wearing pajamas that were way too small for him, with pictures of teddy bears covering it. It would have been almost comical, if not for the tear in the fabric covering his gut, and the large stain of dried blood around it.

Joker lay down on the bed, blowing smoke into the air. He wrapped an arm around Riddler's head and pulled him up against his armpit.

"We're two of a kind, ya know that Eddie?"

"Really?", came the muffled reply from his armpit. The armpit man didn't sound the least bit interested in how he knew his name. Not that there was much to brag about. He'd simply talked to his insiders on the police force and come to the conclusion that this man was not French, German, Russian or Spanish.

"Except I'm bigger, badder and better"

The Riddler didn't answer. Probably a bruised ego. Understandable, the feeling of inferiority was probably maddening, being an ant next to a god. He knew the feeling, it sometimes hit him when he looked in the mirror.

"You're almost like the little brother I never had!", Joker tightened his hold as he said this. Then all mirth vanished from his voice.

"That still doesn't mean I won't kill ya if you step out of line", his voice went back to its high pitch, "Hokey doke?"

Again, there was no answer. That never happened to him, it was always the mirror that backed down, not him.

"Awww, c'mon, don't give me the silent treatment, Eddums!"

At last, not because of the knife the Joker had started playing around with, but because of his own accord, the Riddler spoke.

"Okay. What does getting out of line entail?"

"I'll let ya know if you do"

He stood up. "Nighty, night", he said as he drew back his fist and hit the Riddler in the face. He started bleeding, but was still wide awake.

Joker left the room deep in thought. That always worked in cartoons, so why didn't it work now? Of course, he'd forgotten the spinach.

Riddler lay there, bleeding onto the bed, his face throbbing. Daylight shone through the little window high up on the wall. It was probably early morning. Perfect time for a getaway.

But his plans were thwarted as two grinning creatures entered his room and made themselves comfortable on top of him after helping themselves to the blood pouring down his face.

They soon fell asleep, still on top of him, crushing all hope of escape. This was the first, and hopefully also the last, time he met Bud and Lou. Time showed no sign of passing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Detective Harvey Bullock was standing outside the Riddler's hideout, a cup of stale coffee in his hand. A bomb squad was inside, slowly making their way deeper into the building.

He called them up on the radio. "How's it look?"

"There's a screen here at the entrance, showing hostages that are being held somewhere inside. Not a peep from the Riddler yet"

"Are we ready to move in?"

"I'm not really sure, detective. From what little progress we've made, it looks like this is some sort of a maze. If the hostages are in any danger we can try solving it, but it's probably safer if we just inch our way forward and try to disable the traps"

"Okay, you do that". This was going to be a long day. As if the night hadn't been bad enough.

One of his rookies ran up to him. The situation just kept getting better and better, it seemed.

"Bullock! We've found the missing girl!"

Maybe things were starting to look up.

"She was wandering the streets when our guys found her. It looks like fear-toxin, she had a gun and started shooting randomly. No casualties though. But the worst part is the antidote didn't work, they think it's a new version", the out-of breath rookie finished.

Of course things wouldn't start looking up any time soon. A new strain of the fear-toxin was just what they needed.

His radio started up. "Bullock! The screen showing the hostages has gone blank!"

Fantastic. The Riddler was daring them to go in. They had to do something, but just rushing in would be suicide. The bomb squad wasn't having any luck however, so it didn't really look like they had a chance.

"Just try to work faster, nobody's rushing in there"

An officer ran past him and into the building.

"Montoya!"

"I'm going in there, Harvey, no matter what you say!"

He stood frozen for a moment. Renee was one of the few cops he actually liked. And one of the few competent ones. But he knew there was no way to stop her so the only thing he could do was worry.

Montoya ran up through the first door, casting a brief glance at the screen with the riddle which the bomb squad had apparently solved.

_If you look at the numbers_

_On my face_

_You won't find 13_

_Anyplace _

_Clock_, the bomb squad had typed in.

That didn't look too hard. She ran up to the leader of the bomb squad, standing by the next door, a short distance down the corridor.

"I'm going in with you. We need to speed this up. What have you got so far?"

"Behind the first door was boiling oil ready to pour from the ceiling. I'm guessing it would only go off if you forced your way in. We haven't been able to crack this one yet, and we're having no luck forcing the door"

Montoya examined the door. It looked like a sliding door, no doorknob and no lock. The screen on this one read:

_It cannot be seen_

_Cannot be felt_

_Cannot be heard_

_Cannot be smelt_

_It lies behind stars _

_And under hills_

_And empty holes it fills_

_It comes first _

_And follows after_

_Ends life, kills laughter_

_Dark_, Montoya wrote after a short wait.

The door slid open, and everything went pitch black. She pulled a flashlight from her jacket and went in with two of the bomb squad members. They made their way to the next door. Shining the light on the screen she read the next riddle.

_I am so simple _

_That I only point_

_Yet I guide men_

_All over the world_

_Compass_, Montoya wrote. The door slid open and she shined her light into the next room. It had three doors and they were marked as West, North and East. On all the doors was written the same riddle:

_Two bodies have I_

_Though both joined in one_

_The more I stand still_

_The faster I run_

_Hourglass_, they answered on the North door. As the door started to open, Montoya could sense something was wrong. She grabbed both her companions and brought them down to the ground with her. The door slid open and they were met with a hail of bullets, one of her companions catching a bullet in the leg. The sound was deafening and she could only hope no-one stood in the South doorway.

Finally, the gunfire stopped. She sent both her companions away, the uninjured one helping his friend outside.

The door to the north was a dead end. She walked over to the compass on the floor and studied it more closely. There was some text there.

_Where it begins_

Montoya walked over to the East door and typed _hourglass_. Hourglass to measure time, sunrise in the east. The lights went back on.

Behind the door lay another corridor and another door. The riddle was:

_I run, though I have_

_No legs to be seen_

_I possess no heat_

_Yet I do have steam_

_I have no voice _

_To let words out_

_But from far away_

_You can still hear me shout_

_Train_, she typed, and the door behind her closed while the one in front of her slid open, revealing a room filled with water. It flooded out, knocking her flat and slamming her against the door behind her. The room was starting to fill with water. Renee swam back to the door and dived down to the screen. After a short pause she figured out the answer. _Waterfall_

She made her way to the next door, water still dripping from her clothes. The next riddle was:

_I am weightless_

_But you can see me_

_Put me in a bucket_

_And I'll make it lighter_

_Hole_, she typed while standing as close to the wall as possible. She fell anyway, just managing to grab the floor where the door had slid away. She looked down and saw countless spikes just waiting to impale her. The water made her grip slippery, but she still managed to climb out of the trap.

As she stood, she wondered what was more likely to kill her: The traps, or a heart-attack. She wasn't sure if her nerves could take any more of this. But she was trapped and there were people she had to save. The only way was forward. She read the next riddle.

_Voiceless it cries_

_Wingless it flutters_

_Toothless bites_

_Mouthless mutters_

_Wind_, she typed, after pulling the door behind her halfway-closed. The door slid open to reveal a fan that would have been more at home in a wind-tunnel. She was swept off her feet and slammed against the door leading to the spikes, the only thoughts going through her mind being prayers that the door didn't break under the strain.

After what felt like an eternity, the fan shut down. After falling on her knees and repeatedly thanking her God, she entered the next hallway. It turned left at the fan, leading to yet another door.

_Often talked of, never seen_

_Ever coming, never been_

_Daily looked for, never here_

_Still approaching, coming near_

_Thousands for its visit wait_

_But alas for their fate_

_Though they expect me to appear_

_They will never find me here_

_I wonder if you will live to see it? _

_Tomorrow_, she typed, and prepared herself for whatever horror was next. The door slid open and nothing happened. She stood still for a few moments, expecting something lethal coming her way any second. Knowing it was coming just made it that much worse. A whole minute passed and still nothing happened. Something bad was sure to happen, but her mind wasn't really in any condition for clear thinking.

She started stepping into the room but stopped while her foot was still hovering above the floor. A drop of water dropped onto the floor and the whole room started crackling with electricity as she fell backwards in surprise.

Suddenly, a voice boomed throughout the maze. It was Harvey.

"You can stop now, Montoya. The hostages are safe, they say their cages just opened by themselves. I'm in the control room and I've turned everything off. No sign of Riddler anywhere"

Renee let herself sink completely to the floor. She had had several near death experiences, all for nothing? She started giggling. Then she lost it completely, laughing harder than she ever thought possible.

A few minutes of fighting for air later, Bullock stood over her with a strange look on his face.

"You okay, Montoya?"

She held back her laughter and smiled up at him. She was still shaking, but all fear had vanished. She was alive and that was the only thing that mattered at the moment. She chuckled.

"Right now, Harvey, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen!"

He smiled as he offered her his hand and pulled her up.

"You know I'll never let you forget that, Renee"

When they came out, she had to use every ounce of willpower to keep herself from crying. The sun had never looked so beautiful.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler sat at a table along with the Joker, who was reading the paper. Harley Quinn was making pancakes in the kitchen. He didn't have much experience in being kidnapped, but he was sure this was not normal kidnapper behavior. He had been stripped of all weaponry however, so trying to overcome the both of them would be foolish. He had to find out where they'd hidden his stuff, if they hadn't simply thrown it away, before he could take them on.

Harley put the pancakes on the table and took a seat, looking expectantly at Joker. He put down the paper and put his hands together for prayer. Harley did the same.

After a kick below the table, Eddie did the same.

"I am god. Amen"

The clowns dug in. Eddie hesitantly took a piece and took a tiny bite. No strange taste, didn't quite rule out poison, but it was best not to be rude.

After the meal, they went outside. Joker handed him a suitcase with all his stuff. After a short group hug in which he was an unwilling participant, he slowly backed away. He wasn't sure if turning his back to them was safe, so he walked backwards for the first few steps.

"Make us proud, son!", Joker shouted as he waved.

"I hate goodbyes!", Harley sobbed.

Riddler walked out of their sight before calling his henchmen, telling them where to pick him up. He wasn't quite sure if he knew what the purpose of this had been. A nonsensical death-threat and breakfast, plus some intimidation was a bit disturbing, true, but it still baffled him.

It wasn't until a few hours later that he noticed the note stuck to his back reading "Kick me". He couldn't even begin to understand the Joker, and hopefully he never would.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the evening when Batman climbed through a window into Gordon's room at the hospital.

He looked so frail lying there. So…mortal. His face looked paler than usual and the circles under his eyes were still evident, even after two days of nothing but rest.

He stepped closer to the bed and put a small get well card on the nightstand. Gordon opened his eyes.

"Hi"

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose. It wasn't as bad as it looked. Just a concussion and a few cracked ribs. I'll be ready to go in a couple of days"

"No need to rush. Bullock is handling things just fine"

"I'll just take it slow. But I have to get back out there as soon as I can. Lying around and doing nothing is driving me crazy. But yes, Bullock seems to be handling things. Told me about some sort of deathtrap-maze. Was he pulling my leg or is it true?"

"I checked it out half an hour ago. It was meant for me, but I didn't make it. Got blown off a roof"

"And **you're** telling **me** I have to take things slowly?"

"It was nothing serious. I may not be in perfect form, but I'm still more than capable of doing my job. Not that I'm doing it very well at the moment. I haven't found a trace of Riddler yet. The maze was designed to let the hostages go after a few hours had passed, so I'm guessing he simply left when he figured out I wasn't coming. It's strange that he would let the hostages go. He hasn't shown any qualms about killing before. This supports my theory that he committed the previous murders for some real reason, which means this isn't another Joker. I'm still not sure whether that's good or bad"

"At least it means that there's something to go on. Any word on the others?"

"Scarecrow's up to his old tricks, except now he's kidnapping people to use in his experiments. Your men found the missing girl, crazed with fear. He's altered his toxin, which means there's nothing we can do for her yet. Joker hasn't done anything yet, as far as I can determine. We're no closer to finding any of them. People are scared and growing more afraid daily. When powerful people can be killed with impunity, how can normal people feel safe?"

"We'll get them sooner or later. I know we will"

"Yes, but how many people will suffer in the meantime? How can anyone believe this city's ever going to be safe? They've already lost almost all hope. What happens when Riddler exposes Dent's secret?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking solace in each others company.

"But we'll keep trying. No matter how bad things look, we'll always keep trying"

Batman put a hand on Gordon's shoulder and smiled for the first time Gordon had known him.

"Of course we will. Take care"

He stepped back through the window and disappeared into the night. Gordon closed his eyes. Things would get better. He was sure of it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Your eyes are starting to feel heavy again. You can't quite figure out why, but seeing that Review this Story/Chapter really makes you want to click it. Your hand seems to be moving on its own accord, moving the mouse so that it hovers over the button. You know what you must do.

I've always wondered what would happen if someone that wasn't Batman got caught in Riddler's traps. It would probably take a miracle for a normal person to escape. Montoya thinks at speed that rivals the Batman himself, I know, but I really can't kill her off. And having her standing there, just thinking, for a few sentences for every riddle would have gotten pretty boring pretty fast.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: This is shorter than the last chapters but I just had to release something, to keep up with my non-existent schedule.

I think I've figured it out. Although I have two reviewers (wonderful little people made of awesomesauce), it's not enough for my ego. I think what's holding back the rest of you 100 or so readers is that reviewing doesn't seem exciting. There's no risk, no reward, no nothing. But if I were to change that, the reviews would flood in.

So, review at your own risk. I am not kidding. I will find you, beat you up, wrap you up in gift-paper and send you Timbuktu in a well-ventilated box(because I want you to live, otherwise the whole trip to Timbuktu would be pretty pointless). I will also verbally abuse you the whole time, calling you names and being generally mean-spirited, making you wish you hadn't reviewed. You can run, but you cannot hide.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two men sat in a spacious office at a nightclub downtown. All the curtains were down, keeping the light out of the room. Soft jazz was playing at a low volume, an extra precaution against curious listeners.

"Is the music really necessary? There's nothing to fear here, I assure you", one of the men spoke. The other answered by scowling at him. The man continued, "I assume you called this meeting for a reason? Now would be the time to speak."

The other man lit a cigar with trembling hands, his mind in a curious state, constantly shifting from paranoia to barely controlled anger. Finally, he spoke, anger having won the battle.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!", he hissed at his companion. "Plastering your face on national television, acting like one of those freaks, raising hell for no reason?! Your money's been helpful, don't get me wrong, but this is going too far! When you said you had deemed it necessary to "take Rafe out of the game", this wasn't quite what I thought you meant! I would never have supported any of this if I knew what you would do!"

The man had listened to all this with a patient smile on his lips. "Yes, yes, very touching. But I told you about the cop right away. Why didn't you object then?"

" I thought you had good reason, god knows pretty much every cop in this city is bent. He was just another casualty, all for the greater good. But Rafe, he was one of us!"

At that, the man chortled. This only served to fuel the speaker's anger.

"If you even think about trying to get rid of me the same way, there will be consequences, you can bet on that. I've taken measures…."

"So I see", the other man interrupted and gestured at the stereo in the corner.

"… I've taken measures against you. If anything happens to me, an unfortunate accident or a frame-up, I'm taking you down with me. All the evidence, everything about our little scheme, everything about **you **will be going straight to the police."

The man waited for a few moments before speaking, just to make sure the other man had finished.

"That's not much of a problem, I'm afraid", he said with a smug tone to his voice.

"You can't get to me! Not at my home, not at work and especially not here!"

"No wall is so high that a caravan laid with gold cannot cross it. But why, dear friend, would I eliminate you? You still haven't served your purpose, and seeing how Rafe didn't work out, you're going to be even more important. And since Gordon isn't going anywhere, our other friend is hardly going to take over there just yet."

He smiled at the other man. "I will convince him it is in his best interests to become influential at internal affairs instead. Not nearly as useful, but springing some nasty slander at certain individuals at the right time can make the difference between life and death. But what all this means is that you, the soon to be elected DA, have tripled in value."

The other man seemed somewhat calmed, but there was still a hint of distrust.

"But, Edward…"

"Mr. Nigma, if you please."

"**Mr. Nigma**, I won't be able to hold onto the job for long if I have to turn a blind eye to your… hobby. And there's no way to be certain I'll be elected"

"Firstly, if things aren't going your way in the election, tampering slightly with the results will change that. Secondly, you won't be able to hold onto your job for long if people find out about your affair with a certain… _unusual_ news-anchor."

He handed the other man an envelope. "It would really ruin your reputation as an honest man who believes in family values wouldn't it?"

The soon-to-be DA simply stared at the pictures in the envelope with a numb sense of hopelessness.

"Besides, people are used to ineffectual authorities. You'll blend right in."

"I guess I have no choice.", the lawyer muttered.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. You know this is what you've always wanted. You may not be the biggest fish, but you still get to be a big fish. I'm sure Oswald will have plenty of lucrative deals for you down the road. Now why don't you trod on back home, Mr. Danvers?"

Rodney Danvers stood up and left the room, a distant look in his eyes. It always brought the tiniest tinge of sympathy within Eddie's heart when these men had their dreams broken. At first, they thought of this as an adventure. A mysterious benefactor, meetings in poorly lit rooms filled with smoke. Then they saw it as a ticket to power, a way to become someone powerful. Then, inevitably, they thought they actually had that power and had to be brought back down to earth. Like the kid in the candy store suddenly remembered he didn't actually have any money. But they would mostly benefit from this little arrangement, at least the two that still lived.

Shortly after the man had left, Oswald Cobblepot entered the room and took the lawyer's seat. He dusted the ashes from his desk with a disdainful look on his face.

"I feel so mean, Oswald. Like I've just stolen Christmas. But what did they honestly expect? That I was going to put them in power and then leave them alone?"

"Politicians are rarely too smart, Eddie. But they have their uses."

Riddler nodded in agreement. His little triumvirate had not worked out as well as he had hoped, but at least two of them were still ready to do his bidding. Too bad he hadn't found anything to blackmail Rafe with, to keep him from making the wrong choice. Having a Mayor, DA and a Commissioner in his pocket would have been ideal, but he could make do with just a DA and a man of influence to slow down the police if needed.

Then there was the man sitting opposite him. A useful ally, the pinnacle of human ambition. If a man called the Penguin could be respected and feared, it was fairly certain there was something more to that man than met the eye. Short, tubby, very unappealing physically and, if you couldn't live with greed and ruthlessness, mentally as well. He was like some surreal anti-Bruce Wayne.

After the deaths of so many of Gotham's mob leaders, Penguin had gotten a hold of a nice piece of the slice. A money-launderer, smuggler, arms-dealer and more, Oswald was the ultimate shady businessman. But like most people, he always wanted more.

That was where he came in. A sort of a partnership between two very rich men, both having become rich through slightly questionable methods, they traded in favors rather than money. They had both been establishing strings they could pull, on both sides of the law. Not quite kindred spirits but they still respected, and to a certain extent, liked each other. But whereas Eddie had the more valuable strings, Ozzie had the manpower. And the patience for something as droll as managing an illegal empire. But they were both sophisticated men, far above the regular mobsters.

"What unfortunate accident befell you?", the cagey bird asked and gestured at the Riddler's face.

"An encounter with the Joker."

"Do elaborate."

"I was abducted", he said with more than a hint of frustration.

"What did he want?"

"Absolutely nothing. It was all completely pointless, just a random humiliation."

Oswald decided not to press further on the subject. He poured brandy into two glasses and handed one to his associate.

"To better luck", he smiled before downing his drink.

The Riddler merely sipped his. "He didn't show up. Turns out the police did. Cracked almost half of my maze before the countdown shut the whole thing off. Amazing that they made it so far, but still disappointing. I still haven't found out where he went."

"Maybe he figured you were a low priority, now that Joker roams free. I still don't understand why you would want to meet the Batman, but to each his own."

"Two murders, one of those a City Councilman. Actually showing up at a news station and walking away unscathed through a police barricade. How could I still be a low priority? Maybe I need to try wearing lipstick to gain his attention."

"Maybe not a low priority, per se, but lower than Joker. I've got a little problem that might provide the perfect opportunity to get his attention. The Russians are proving to be powerful competitors in the arms-dealing racket. An attack on one of their warehouses and a truckload of missing weapons? He couldn't possibly be unimpressed, nor could he ignore you."

"And you would profit immensely."

"Of course we would split the take. I'll get you some goons to do the dirty work, but do try to keep them all alive. This mustn't be connected to me, so no witnesses, only one of your little riddles, and voilá! Everyone is happy."

"An attack on a small warehouse? It doesn't sound like much of a challenge."

"It is by no means small." Oswald elaborated with an almost apologetic ring to his tone. "Their security is tight, fancy electronics systems to keep people out and lots of muscle. You don't need to sully your own hands if you don't want to, just plan the thing and then sit back and watch the fireworks."

"All right, but this is a favor I expect returned."

"Of course, Edward. It will be my pleasure."

Riddler downed his brandy, stood and gave a tip of his hat before leaving his associate. A rather droll task, but it could be worse. He'd just have to make it interesting.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim sat in his kitchen with his two children and wife. He really missed this, just eating waffles with his family, doing nothing apart from enjoying each others company. No thieves, robbers, rapists, murderers, thugs or jokers. Just him and his family.

He turned to his son and ruffled his hair. He rarely ever saw them these days, except when they were asleep. He hated to admit it, but he was becoming a rather neglectful father. But what could he do? He couldn't simply leave things as they were, there was always something which required his attention, always something that was more important than his free time.

His wife probably didn't think too much of him at the moment, and she would be right not to. Only staying with his kids when it was on doctor's orders did make him look bad. But he was going to change. Even if he had to stay at work, he would at least call them, talk to them, assure them he was still theirs and always would be.

For the first time in quite a while, the police commissioner felt hopeful. He might be unable to stop all the horrible things that happened in the city, but he was more than capable of keeping things together on the home front. Nothing was more important than his loved ones. Not even the Joker. And the next two days he intended to spend recuperating would be worth putting his job aside.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey sat at his desk with his head leaning on a pile of papers he should be reading. He groaned loudly. Finding it nice, he did so again. Who needed therapists when you had the brilliant mind of a Bullock to find just the thing to relieve your tension?

"You giving birth over there, Harvey?" Renee smirked at him.

"I wish. How the hell does he does this every single day? Without donuts?"

"Do what, Harvey?"

"Take all this bullshit. Talk ta important jerks, repeating the same dull line about doing everything in our power blahblahblah, file through these tons of reports on important cases, head investigations that are going forward about as fast as a beached whale. And still remain sane, perfect ol' Jim."

"Hang in there, Harvey."

"Get me something ta eat, and I just might."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman was in his cave, watching a tape of a session at Arkham earlier that day. The patient was a young woman named Kate, who had gone berserk downtown after being poisoned by Scarecrow's new toxin. She raved on and on about blood raining down, her walking-dead mother, being buried alive and everything her mind had conjured up. But she did say something about a warehouse, which meant that maybe Riddler actually did know where Scarecrow was. Crane was bound to be in an abandoned building, and a warehouse fit the "Carcass of Capitalism" comment. This didn't narrow it down much, but it was a start.

Soon, one of his foes would slip up. And that would be all he needed. In the meantime, rumors were bound to circulate. And Matches Malone just loved rumors.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Riddler's comment about caravans laid with gold is a slightly altered quote from Filipus II, Alexander the Great's father. His friendship with Ozzie has been shown occasionally in the comics, although it isn't much. His comment about lipstick is referring to Joker.

Anonymous reviews are allowed, but don't think that will in any way save you if you review. I'm the human equivalent of a blood hound, and directly related to some sort of stealthy animal(on my mother's side, if you're curious.). So if you are weak of heart, let me know and I will refrain from sneaking up on you when I come to exact my revenge.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: The Russian names may or may not be authentic. And you'll just have to imagine they're speaking to each other in Russian, because sadly, I do not know Russian.

I give up. I doesn't matter what I say, does it? Maybe you just despise reviewing. I can respect that, I suppose. At least you read this, and that in itself is something of a reward.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Gentlemen, in no less than an hour you will take the stage. Are we all clear on our roles?" The Joker addressed his audience. There was no answer.

"Oh, for the love of Batman, how thick are you? Well, one more time then. We're going to play a game. I will be watching, so any monkey-business leads to bad things happening. Kay?"

Still no answer came.

"Got the jitters, huh? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll just kill 'em!"

Finally, one apparently suicidal member of his jolly little crew spoke up.

"Might as well just kill us now. We ain't gonna play along."

"Why that's a great idea! Hand me the bat, Harls."

She skipped out of the room and returned almost instantly with a baseball bat, decorated with numerous bat-logos.

"I have to admit, I'm terribly rusty on the rules of baseball, so we'll just go with the flow, okay?"

He rushed at the bound man and started whaling on him. Some of the others stared, some clenched their eyes shut, others stared at their legs and muttered a prayer or something similar. Harley couldn't help but giggle. People were so cute when they were scared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Piotr looked over at Rodion, his eternally silent partner, and offered a cigarette. A slight nod he guessed meant no was the response. He lit his own cigarette and took a long drag, keeping it in, savoring the feeling. He raised his eyes to the sky, to look at something other than the ugly buildings surrounding them. Ugly neighborhood. Ugly city. It reminded him of home.

Rodion poked him in the arm. "Yeah, yeah, I know", he told his creepy partner and lowered his gaze again. "Eyes wide open."

"Don't look at me like that. There's no danger. No-one escapes the gaze of Eagle-Eyes (he pointed at himself), even when he isn't looking."

An annoying beeping sound came from his jacket. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and answered his cell-phone.

"Yeah?"

"I am weightless, yet you can see me. Put me in a bucket, and I'll make it lighter. What am I?"

"Is this a joke?"

"Did it sound like one?"

"No, no it didn't. Okay, I got nothing better to do. Tell me."

"I'd rather show you, if you don't mind."

There was a loud rumble and the ground gave way. Rodion and Piotr fell through the newly created hole into the sewers below.

Piotr could see Stepan staring down with a bewildered look on his face as he lost consciousness. The smell was disgusting.

Stepan turned to run back inside but found the way to the door blocked by a man in a green jacket, black pants and a bowler hat. One hand was resting on a cane, the other had a gun trained on him.

"Listen closely", he said, "I'm hard to understand, as elusive as a grain of sand, even if you perceive me, you know me not, before you can tell me what I have forgot. What am I?"

"Uh"

"Tic, toc, tic, toc"

"A riddle?"

"Yes! Now all you have to do is kiss my ring, then you can scamper."

"Kiss your ring?"

"Yes. I am the prince of puzzles, so proper etiquette must be shown."

Stepan bowed down and kissed the ring. What the whacko with the gun wants, the whacko with the gun gets.

But instead of standing back up, he limply dropped to the floor. Through the haze he could hear the nut. "Gotcha!"

Shirov jerked his head up as the door to the warehouse swung open. There was no one in sight. He signaled for his pals to draw their guns. They grouped together. Everyone knew the Batman liked to pick people off one by one.

He heard something moving above and fired blindly at the rafters. All went quiet. Then something dropped down and hit the floor with a thud. It's cape was splayed over most of the body but the head was visible. It was Batman.

They inched their way over to the body and aimed their guns at him.

"How are we alike?", he said in a strange growl. They fired into the body until it went quiet again.

His heart was thumping violently as he reached and kicked the body over with his foot.

"We're all dummies!", the thing said and the air filled with gas. The gangsters dropped to the ground in a matter of seconds.

The last mobster saw this from his office and hurriedly locked the door. He rushed to the window and threw it open, but he was stopped dead in his tracks as a grinning face with a green hat popped up. He fell on his ass and emptied the clip into the head. It was just cardboard. A trick.

He crawled backwards for the cover of a desk as he re-loaded his gun. He could hear a rattling noise coming from the door. Someone was trying to pick the lock. He fired repeatedly at the door, hitting nothing but the wood. The door slowly creaked open.

He was barely able to hold the gun, let alone keep it steady. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He was going to die.

"It can make you jump out of your skin…"

He shot at the noise, through the wall. High, low, and in the middle.

"Make you squeal in delight…"

He fired again, and again, and again. He reached for another clip, taking a step backwards as he re-loaded.

"Or faint in fright. What is it?"

Everything went quiet for an agonizing moment. He glanced around nervously. The door to the closet behind him burst open and a cloth came over his mouth.

"Surprise!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon sat in his office, listening to Harvey drone on about his adventures as the man in charge. It was hard to explain why, but it felt good to be back. But nothing good lasts forever when you're the police commissioner. The phone rang and he answered.

"Hi, Gordie. Step outside and join the fun!"

Joker hung up, and Gordon peered through his window. Down on the street was a crowd of officers standing a few feet away from a lone man who was wearing something beyond strange. Gordon rushed downstairs.

As he stepped outside he got a better look at the man. He had a camera and a microphone on his head, a plastic pig stuck to his chest, a backpack filled with ammo, and a shotgun in his hands.

"Okay, so here's the game", Joker's voice came from the microphone. "It's Survivor: Gotham and this guy here is one of 20 players, all scattered over the city. Their job is to kill or be killed. If they stop after the game begins, they blow. If they don't shoot, they blow. Yeah, that's pretty much it. So: 3, 2, 1 and GO!"

The man stood completely still. "I-I"

"HA! Sorry pal, but the tribe has spoken!"

The pig exploded and the group of officers was showered with bits of the man. After a few moments of shock, they looked over at Gordon.

"Alright, we need to find the other 19 and evacuate everyone in their vicinity. If they attack you, use tranquilizers, but most of all we need to stay clear and not allow them to get a shot. Move out!"

Elsewhere, Batman was terrorizing one of the Joker's goons. He'd met him earlier as Matches Malone. The henchman was drunk and started boasting about his job, trying to impress people with stories of what he did for Joker. Matches had made a hasty exit, and a short time later the goon had met Batman and spilled everything. He knew where the Joker was.

Batman tied up the drunk miscreant and raced to the Joker's hideout. Five minutes and four casualties later he arrived. Joker was on the roof of a toy factory, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city, with monitors showing his victims. A strangely costumed woman was tied to a chair close to the monitors. Presumably the doctor.

He made a flashy entrance, glide-kicking the Joker onto the monitors causing him to drop the remote detonator. He turned to the handful of goons and dove at them. He poured all his anger and frustration into the blows, making sure not to kill anyone but otherwise holding nothing back. In a matter of moments, they were all down.

He turned just in time to avoid Joker's knife and answered with a vicious kick in the chest. He kept hitting him until he remembered the bombs. He announced through the microphones that the situation was secure, stashed the detonator in his belt and turned to check on the doctor. He hardly had time to register that she was gone before something heavy came down on his head. As he struggled to his feet he could see Joker and the doctor, an unusually large hammer in her hand, running to the fire ladder.

When they hit the ground, Joker turned and kissed her. Unbeknown to her, the hand on her behind was not there for the usual reasons. He was sticking the tracking device Batman had put on him while practicing his martial arts skill to her butt.

"Harl, we need to split up. I'll meet you back at the you-know-where."

"Okay, boss." She ran away and shouted over her shoulder. "Stay safe!"

He ran to a group of trashcans and hid behind them. Now he just needed to sit back and let the Fatman go after Harley. The useful little dimwit. If he didn't know any better, he would think he almost cared for her.

He heard the Batman land harshly on the ground close by. He heard him pick up his little gizmo and start running and… stop? Looking to the side he saw his coattails were sticking out from behind the trashcans. So they aren't just bluffing when they say beauty is pain.

Batman kicked away his cover and towered over him. Joker raised his hand and pointed towards the way Harley had gone.

"They went that way!"

Batman kicked him. Toughest audience in the whole wide world. Joker hurled a small vial of acid at him. With a magnificent twirl the Bat evaded it, using his cape as a shield. Oh, well. At least he'd made a large gap in the cape.

Batman grabbed him and pushed him against the wall, cuffing his hands behind him.

"Wait! What's the safety word?"

A forced headbutt into the wall later, Batman was dragging him to his car. He threw him into the passenger seat and fastened him with a ridiculous amount of restraints. He couldn't help but laugh a little.

As they drove off into the sunset happily ever after, Joker turned to him and smiled.

"So. My place or yours?"

A fist to the face was the answer he received.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gordon let out a weary sigh as he got into a police car with Bullock. His cell-phone started ringing. Perfect.

"Gordon here."

"Good evening. I'd like to report a work of art."

"Who is this?"

"Take a wild guess, dear. Go to the warehouse at Nell street. There's nothing to fear but the unknown. Have a nice night."

A short time later they arrived at the scene. A hole in the ground, a bullet-ridden Batman dummy and a cardboard depicting Riddler's face was the only thing they saw until they turned on the lights.

Fastened to the ceiling were about 15 men or so. All the lights except the ones above the men had been destroyed. They formed a make-shift bat-signal. And there was no doubt a riddle up there. Him being able to go home that night didn't seem too likely.

At least they'd caught the Joker.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley stumbled into Robinson Park. She was exhausted, there were cops at the hideout and all the news-stations said her puddin' had been captured.

She entered an old-looking cabin, hoping to find a resting place. The first thing she noticed was the awful smell. The second thing she noticed was the stiff body with a scarecrow's hat, covered in plants. The third thing she noticed was her doubling over and vomiting.

She ran back out, covering her poor nose. After a quick look around, she ran to a tree and lay down. She was too tired to care if the cops found her. What was the point of living without Mistah J anyway? She dropped to the ground, accidentally smashing the tracking device, and fell asleep under the willow tree.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Not too polished, but whatevs. I'm not sure who I was trying to fool. Of course I'll continue badgering you until you review! So...review? Pwetty, pwetty pwease?


	12. Chapter 12

AN: I just realized(R) I've never explained the title. I called it City(e) of Gods mostly because I couldn't(v) think of anything better, but also because (i)Gotham has this group (e)of larger-than-life people(w) who seem to be virtually unstoppable. It's very corny, but we'll just have to live with it because I suck at coming up with titles. My other story is further proof of this fact(shameless advertising, how low can I go?". Review. Yes, I'm having another go at hypnotic suggestion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harley slowly came to her senses. It felt like she was on a water-bed. That was… unusual. But it didn't matter. Mistah J had been captured by that evil Batman. She was alone again. She had to get him out. And she would. Just five more minutes and then she'd spring into action.

"Wake up."

She jumped in surprise and immediately toppled off her resting place, landing face first in a shallow pond. She raised the top of her head out of the water, taking in her surroundings. Looking to her side, she noticed what she had been lying on. It was a giant water lily.

"Care to tell me who you are?", a naked green woman asked her.

That was simply too weird, so she ignored her and kept looking around. She was in a cave filled with plants. The ones on the walls seemed to be glowing. That would explain how she could see underground.

"Stop ignoring me."

Harley took in the sight of her. Her skin was a dark green, her hair red and her figure voluptuous. Since she was too tall to be a little green alien, maybe she was a wet dream? But no, she didn't remind her of Mistah J at all. The woman stepped into the pond and walked over to her.

"Get up."

Maybe she was hallucinating? If so that was one hell of a demanding hallucination. When she showed no sign of moving, the woman let out a small sigh. A vine moved over to Harley and gripped her waist, hoisting her to her feet. Yes, she was definitely hallucinating.

"Hello?", the woman asked as she waved a hand in front of Harley's eyes and the vine shook her lightly.

"Hello."

The vine stopped shaking her but did not let go.

"Who are you?"

"Harley."

"What were you doing in my park?"

"So you're Mrs. Robinson?"*

"No, my name is Poison Ivy. Answer the question."

"I was running."

"Is that your jogging suit?"

"No, these are my work clothes. Look, hallucinations aren't supposed to ask questions. You're supposed to be bizarre and fun and happy! You're just bizarre."

"Says the dripping wet clown."

"Shut up."

"Letting you leave would be risky for me, so you really should be trying to get on my good side."

"Yeah, yeah. Real scary. Do you know who I am? I'm the Joker's girlfriend. Take a moment and let that sink in before you try to be spooky."

"The Joker… has a girlfriend?"

"He's a very loveable person once you get past his playful exterior.", she said and huffed in indignation.

"Okay, then. You just go back to sleep and I'll drop you off at Arkham when I've got the time."

"You're busy? What exactly do you do?"

"Suffice to say, I'm going to change the world."

"Hokey-dokey. G'night."

"Just stay here and don't destroy anything."

Harley lay down on the comfy giant water lily again. Tomorrow would hopefully be without hallucinations. And if not, who cared?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_You heard me before_

_Yet you hear me again_

_Then I die_

_Till you call me again_

_What am I?_

An echo. It was the riddle that had been left with the bound men in the warehouse. Gordon had given him the riddle along with the reason why Riddler raided the place. The gangsters had just received an arms shipment when he attacked. And now he had enough firepower to form an army if he wanted to. And his clue was echo. Bruce sipped his tea and tried to concentrate.

Maybe it was nothing more than a threat. Maybe he was just saying the streets would echo with the sound of gunfire. No. He'd sent a useless riddle before, but never to Batman. And if he really was going to start a war with the gangs or the police, why bother leaving the Russians alive?

Was there some place in the city that had a prominent echo? Hardly.

He started his warm-up routine. The sweat poured off him. Maybe it was a location? He couldn't remember any place bearing the name Echo. Maybe they were initials. He let the computer search for locations featuring the initials. A short while later, a few answers popped up.

Hotel Oberon on East Corner

Everett Claude's House of Opera

The list went on, but not a single likely target. He checked for names.

Edmund Cillian Hoverfield Odermann was the only name out of a handful that seemed like a tempting target. He was one of Bruce Wayne's acquaintances, one of the idle rich. He was the sixth richest man in Gotham, owning the Hoverfield Electronics corporation, a wildly successful company. He warned Gordon and went on with his warm-up. This time he would be prepared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stood in the messy bathroom and stared at his reflection, the bags under his eyes looking unhealthier than usual. Normally he didn't mind a lack of sleep, because it was the result of running from the police and a mad vigilante, or because he abandoned sleep in favor of experiments. But this was just embarrassing. The Scarecrow, loath as he was to admit it, was having bad dreams.

Not exactly nightmares, but still not really harmless dreams either. He could never recall what they were about, just the dryad and whether she was pleased with him or not. The fact that he dreamed about a dryad irked him. Usually his sleep was dreamless, and if he did dream it was about his work or the fields and the scarecrow from his youth. Not pretty little fairytale creatures applauding him for doing his share in the battle against civilization.

If it were just dreams he wouldn't be so suspicious. Right now he had a group of test subjects in the warehouse across the street from his disgusting little apartment. They were all lumberjacks. He couldn't remember deciding to kidnap only lumberjacks and it was too much to be a coincidence.

The encounter had gone as expected, he barged in with his goons and gassed them with a lighter version of the toxin. But before that he noticed their faces. There was the usual fear but there was also a look of puzzlement. He could guess what they were thinking because he was thinking it as well. Why on earth was Scarecrow attacking a lumberjack cabin on the outskirts of town?

They were defenseless, true, but so were dozens of people closer to home. So why had he done it? The answer could undoubtedly be found in Robinson Park, but he would not go. Not yet. He didn't like to believe in hypnotism and besides, Scarecrow would not upset his busy schedule because of silly dreams. The God of Fear was above such foolishness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bullock drummed his fingers on the table in the spacious living room. He had five officers with him in the room and ten more scattered on the manor's grounds in groups of two. The man they were here to protect, Edmund Cillian and so on, didn't look the least bit nervous. Probably thought it was beneath him. Then there was the Halloween crowd, somewhere out there, one on his side(for the time being, at least) and one who against him.

How the fruitcake was planning on plowing through them he didn't know, but judging from the recent history of Gotham, such a thing was possible. The aristocrat did not seem to think so. After all, how could something so undignified happen to a man so far above the rest of society?

He sat there, twirling a spoon in his teacup, a book in one hand. He looked down his nose at everything, even the tea cup. He probably even gave his own reflection the same haughty stare.

Looking out the window he thought he saw movement. Probably just the Bat. He told his men to look sharp. He often wondered why it was a bat. Maybe it was supposed to come off as a vampire, but it was still stupid. He looked up at the cloudy sky, then let his gaze wander over the treeline and finally let his eyes rest on the river that ran close by. He didn't think a amphibious attack was likely, but he had still put two groups on guard there.

A loud crash came from the wine cellar. He rushed outside with two of his officers and took up position in front of the door. He contacted all the groups and told them to secure their positions, but one of the groups in the woods didn't answer. He tried contacting headquarters but there was no answer. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, we're going in."

He burst through the door and was met with the sight of murky water. Before he could take a step back two hands shot out and grabbed his ankles, pulling him under. After a moment of panic he opened his eyes. He could make out something gray dragging him further down, a few winebottles floating aimlessly around them.

He heard someone enter the water, no doubt his comrades come to assist him. Using every ounce of his strength he managed to get a lungful of air before being dragged down again. His two cops were trying to attack their unseen assailant, apparently to no avail. After a short struggle, the unbelievably strong hands left him and reached for his fellows. A blink of the eye later, they had all disappeared into the murky depths.

He could feel someone grab him and yank him out of the water. He found himself face to face with Batman, and did his best to stand on his own.

"Check on Mr. Odermann. I'll go after them."

Bullock obeyed. He ran back to the living room with a heavy lamp in one hand, his gun lost in the earlier struggle. All his officers were unconscious and the aristocrat was slumped in his chair. He could hear someone coming down the stairs a short distance away and the front door creaking open.

He moved to borrow a gun from one of his men when the man behind him muttered something inaudible.

"Don't worry, everything is under control."

"Yes, everything is just dandy."

He whirled to see a man in a green jacket, black pants and green bowler standing in the doorway, aiming a gun at him. The man fired and a dart embedded itself in Bullock's neck.

Three men filed into the room and picked the aristocrat up and carried him away. The Riddler stepped over to Bullock, who was rapidly losing consciousness.

"Here is the ransom note, and I will see you next Thursday. You take it easy now."

He fastened a note to Bullock's forehead and walked into the kitchen. He returned with ketchup and a paintbrush.

"Just to give them a little scare.", he smiled.

At this point he could barely keep his eyes open, but he could still see what Riddler was writing.

_Each one you tell makes confession harder_

_And each confession makes telling one harder_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

AN: You can tell by their questionable quality that some of the riddles are mine. Review. This is a bit shorter than most chapters, but I'm sure you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. If you don't really know what to say, review anyway. It doesn't have to be long or detailed, just a little compliment or a little criticism on some little thing. Like the clunky action scenes or something. Review. I've got twice as many chapters as reviews and that just isn't healthy. Oh, and you'll have to excuse the silly location names.

Joker will probably be vacationing at Arkham for the rest of the story, mostly because almost every single story in this section is about him.

*This is a reference to Mrs. Robinson, a character from a film and the fact that the park is called Robinson Park.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I now possess a new-found ambition. Despite the lack of reviews I have a few regulars that have put this story on alert. This greatly invigorates me, so a big thank-you from the bottomless depths of my heart!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey stood in the mortuary, fists clenched. He wasn't new to this game, brutal and mindless violence was not foreign to him. But he still found tears welling in his eyes as he looked at the empty shells that used to be his colleagues.

They had tried to help him. And they had. If not for them he wouldn't be alive. But they would. Was it really worth it? They were just over thirty years old and they had died for a fat worthless slob like him. They had faced a man, no, a creature straight from a nightmare, and they had lost. Trying to protect people they didn't know, people who didn't deserve their help. People like him and that stupid rich little snot-nosed victim who'd been kidnapped. It wasn't fair. Just because he hadn't been able to do his share, two friends were gone. And it wasn't a real cop's death, taking a bullet for some innocent, or something noble like that. No, they'd died in a wine-cellar filled with murky water, killed by something… unnatural. Their last moments were not simply moments of pain, but moments of pain and absolute terror. And for what? A worthless little billionaire who they didn't even manage to keep safe, a fat detective who had no loved ones who would have mourned him and a city that didn't deserve being saved. It wasn't fair.

His tears flowed freely now, no more attempts to keep up the manly act. His shoulders shook, he sobbed in helpless rage and sorrow and fell to his knees. Their faces were frozen in a look of complete agony and horror, their necks turned a perfect 180 degrees. It was inhumane. It was simply too horrible for words, too horrible to see, but he couldn't tear himself away. Because of his stupidity, two people were dead.

The Riddler had his fun, waltzed right over him and snatched the billionaire. Harvey Bullock was a failure. A complete and utter failure. Most of his team was alive, but only because of Riddler's mercy and/or the arrival of Batman, not because of Bullock's merit.

Every once in a while, Gotham's true face showed itself to you. It was cold, cruel and mocking.

What finally got him to stand was not closure. It was not acceptance, not hope for a better future, it wasn't one of the pretty emotions. It was desire. The desire for vengeance, the desire to show to himself, and his dead friends if they were watching somewhere, that not even a creature taken straight from your nightmares could kill police officers with impunity. Harvey Bullock was going to kill his nightmare.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Odermann had had just about enough of this. The place was dark, cold and stuffy, there was nothing interesting with which he could pass the time and his captor was annoying. Just because he was tied up did not mean some lowly commoner could speak to him as an equal. It just wasn't done.

But the buffoon chose to ignore this unspoken rule. He simply sat there in his garish outfit and asked question after question, as if he was conducting an interrogation.

The state of the city was deteriorating rapidly. At least the riff-raff of old respected their betters and left high society well enough alone.

"So sorry about the state of your mansion. The blood spatters are all Batman's fault of course, but I still feel awfully responsible. You'll probably be glad to hear the donors are all in fine health."

His guest did not reply and looked offended rather than scared. He smiled and went on with the paper's exceedingly easy crossword puzzle. Riddler was bored out of his mind. His DA would be elected in a few days time, his little Internal Affairs rat would be established around the same time and Rafe was still dead. There was nothing he could do concerning his current plans other than wait. So he just had to settle for doodling ideas for future plans, plotting the downfall of this and that in his mind, planning new decorations and traps for his Rat Cave*(even if it was only temporary) and coming up with new riddles.

He drummed on his little notebook with his pen. Despite the relative success of his operation, he was not happy. His new employee had not followed his orders. He felt sad having to fire him. The big lug was so very intimidating and bizarre. But it just wasn't worth it.

He'd already sent the ransom note so he had nothing to do but bother his captive and fume silently over the silly viciousness of his lackey. Midnight couldn't come faster.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whatcha doin'?", a certain cheery blond asked her hostess, even if she wasn't quite sure if she was a hallucination or not.

"I'm planning how best to cull the herd. It's obviously going to include poison, but the question is still "how?". Do I send letters with anthrax, using the remains of the dead green to avenge them? Do I poison a certain group of society to see if I can teach people what is acceptable for nature and what is not? Do I take control of powerful individuals and change society through them? Should I do all of those things? The list goes on. But I think it would be best to not give away my purpose just yet. Best of all would be if I could reduce the herd's numbers and blame it on someone else."

"Go for it, Red. How's about Diddler? He's into green, so him being an eco-terrorist would be logical."

"How on earth would that be logica…Red?"

"You know, cause a' the hair."

"I guess that's okay," suddenly she snapped her fingers. "I've got it! I'll poison their medicine! I'll start with the smaller pharmacies today, take the larger ones and the hospitals later. Infiltrating them will take some planning."

"And it'll mostly be old people that no-one cares about! Everyone wins!"

"Yes, Harley. Finally someone will stand up for the defenseless plants that are being slaughtered mercilessly around the globe. When I'm through, no-one will hurt my babies again!"

"Gee, Red, you've got such a big heart. But I was wondering," she twiddled her fingers and made puppy eyes, "Can ya maybe help me bust out Mistah J sometime?"

"Sure, sometime later."

And at that they fell silent, Ivy focusing on concocting the poison, Harley focusing on happy memories and bright colors.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce sat in his cave once again and went over the facts. He had knocked out four intruders but they had all been gone when he finally came back. Two officers were dead, slain by someone or something strong. He hadn't gotten a good look at it before it escaped back through the short tunnel into the river. It had held its breath for an unnaturally long time and its skin was scaled. That didn't really match any of the usual suspects. He let out a sigh. Things had really escalated since Joker's appearance.

The ransom note had been delivered and he had examined the layout of the area thoroughly. He had even examined it in person, to make sure there were no secret passageways or any uncharted territory. The riddle, if it could be called that, did not shed much light on the case. Writing it in ketchup had most likely just been a scare-tactic, but it had little effect due to the mangled corpses of the policemen. This could mean that Riddler had not intended to have the officers killed. But he hadn't really shown any compassion before, so maybe it meant nothing.

_Each one you tell makes confession harder_

_And each confession makes telling one harder_

A lie. This could mean that the kidnapping was somehow fake, or it could mean something else entirely. That he had told Detective Bullock that he'd see him on Thursday no doubt meant his next move was going to take place then, but that was tomorrow, a whole day after the ransom was supposed to be delivered.

On top of that, he was no closer to solving the Daggett murders or finding Scarecrow. Apart from the young couple abducted a couple of days ago, there hadn't been a peep from him. Batman had already mapped out a few methods the Scarecrow could use to spread his toxin on a wide scale, and come up with counter-measures for all of them. But he still felt woefully inadequate.

At the gentle urgings of his butler, he finally went to bed. He could sleep for four hours and still have two hours before midnight. Maybe he would have a fresh outlook on the case when he woke up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I don't really think Harvey is someone who cares about his appearance and lifestyle, but he's supposed to be feeling very emotional at the time of his little self-deprecating rant.

Mr. Odermann is a very exaggerated character, I know.

Not much really happened in this chapter, but there is more to come.

*The Rat Cave is something from 1960's Batman, Riddler's parody of the Batcave.

Reviews would be tolerated with a stoic calm.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: One small step for mankind, one giant step in my battle against laziness. It's not too polished but it will just have to do.

Reviews would be appreciated. Maybe even treasured.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman peered through his batnoculars at the drop-off point. Any minute now, Odermann's son would arrive with a suitcase full of money. The Riddler was bound to try something, but what that could be was uncertain. The answer to the last riddle was lie, which could mean just about anything. He had checked up on Mr. Odermann and was certain there was nothing dubious about the man, or the fact that it was indeed him the Riddler had kidnapped.

Below, the son stepped out of a car into the rain. He walked into the currently vacant construction site and sat down on a bench. He glanced at his watch and peered around. Five minutes passed and nothing happened.

Of course it could very well be that this was just a distraction, but Batman couldn't think of any likely target so this was his safest bet.

Another ten minutes passed and something interesting came over the police radio. Odermann had been set free in front of the MCU. Policemen rushed over to the son and escorted him away.

Shortly afterward, Batman vacated the area. He was certain he would find out what Riddler had done sooner or later. He set off for a thorough tour of possible targets, which were around a hundred.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan Crane surveyed his new abode with a pleased expression. It was an old manor that had been changed into a haunted house and moved into an amusement park. The park had been bankrupted a few years earlier and the owner of the lot was now under psychiatric care, courtesy of the master of fear. It was the perfect place to conduct his experiments, the house was in the middle of the park so no-one would hear any suspicious noises and it had plenty of room for storing test subjects.

He motioned for his hired help to carry the latest cargo into the building. He'd keep a few goons on the premises for safety purposes, but the rest would stay at the old place to run the extortion ring. They needed him for the chemicals so the funding would keep flowing in and he payed a few of them more than the others, to keep at least a few of them loyal if any notion of a hostile takeover passed through the empty space that passed for their brains.

He just needed to update the security system, add some personal touches here and there and it would be the perfect safe-house. The future looked bright indeed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doorbell rang at Wayne Manor, the loud sound echoing through the otherwise quiet rooms. Alfred made his way to the door, an old shotgun held behind his back in case trouble arose. After all, who on earth would ring the doorbell at such an ungodly hour?

His question was answered when he opened the door. It was a young woman, a model by the looks of it. One of Bruce Wayne's…escorts.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"You can raise your hands in the air, grandpa", a gruff voice replied as three brutes came out of hiding and rushed at him. He raised the gun and got one shot off before he was tackled roughly to the ground. Judging by the shrill scream, he had not missed.

In a matter of moments he had been handcuffed and raised to his feet. A man in a green suit walked in, delicately stepping over another man who was lying on the ground with a bullet in his thigh.

"Splendid. Now tie him to the chair and then you can take Cristopher to get some help."

"Where should we take him, boss? We can't go to the hospital!"

"I'm sure you'll think of something. Now scram!"

A short while later they were alone. The Riddler poured himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite Alfred.

"So. Where's the entrance?", he asked with a smile.

"Pardon?"

"You're right, absolutely right. With a name like the Riddler, I really should be able to solve that little puzzle shouldn't I? Let me guess, the piano?"

He stepped over to it and pressed every key first, then hammered in random sequences.

"Maybe there's a book I pull and a door will pop out somewhere. No, they look completely normal. I'll just try to find the entrance itself."

He peered into the fireplace, then tried moving all the bookshelves and all large mirrors in the room. Then he noticed the grandfather clock.

"Of course."

He tried moving it but it did not budge. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

"It may be a crude way to gain entrance, but I don't really have time to be classy about this. Hope you aren't emotionally attached to this thing."

He was halfway through attaching the explosives when Alfred told him how to access the cave. He would have found out anyway and that clock was the only family heirloom that hadn't been in the old manor at the time of the fire. Having it blown to smithereens simply would not do. Master Wayne was bound to return soon anyway, and there was only one way out of the cave for Riddler. Unless he stole one of the cars and knew his way around the cave, which was doubtful.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman had found the Riddler's real target, puzzling as it was. He had poisoned the medical supply of a small pharmacy. Thirty dead, thirteen people in critical condition. Most of the victims were elderly. The riddle had been written on the mirror in the pharmacy's restroom.

_If you look at my face_

_You won't find the number 13 anyplace_

He couldn't understand it. The Riddler's crime spree had been fairly low on casualties thus far, and now he suddenly decided to massacre people? The riddles didn't point to anything either. The Riddler's plot had been to kidnap Odermann to distract the authorities while he carried out his real plan, which was to kill old people? He couldn't say the Riddler had made much sense before but this was insane.

This could also mean Riddler was behind the Daggett murders. But there had been no riddle left there. Someone was trying to frame Riddler and failing miserably. That didn't change the fact that he had no idea how it had been done.

All the female employees that had been working today at the pharmacy were missing and the male employees said they couldn't remember the last 24 hours. Who profited from the murders? Absolutely no-one. This was most likely not the work of someone who knew the victims. It was a random killing, apparently for no reason. Most likely the perpetrator wanted fame. That or this was a act of terrorism, but it still didn't seem to fit.

The cameras and the tapes had all been destroyed, no-one in the neighborhood had seen anything suspicious. His only chance of catching this person or people was to wait for their next move. He set off to place his own cameras in dozens of pharmacies all over town.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey Bullock sat in his car, reading about a rash of kidnappings, increased quantity of weapons being smuggled into the city(how weapon smuggling could actually increase in a burg like Gotham, Bullock would never know), the mysterious Daggett case and the kidnapping of Odermann. This city was many things, but dull was not one of them.

A man left the club across the street and Bullock stepped out of his car. The other man staggered into an alleyway and was leaning against a wall when Bullock rounded the corner.

"Hey Piotr, I need ta speak with ya."

The other man looked up and opened his mouth to speak but words were not what came out. Bullock took a step back and waited for the man to finish.

"About what?"

"About the night we found you and your buddies tied to the ceiling."

"I already told you, we was just celebrating. Dynamo Kiev just won an important game and we were just chilling when that creep attacked us for no reason!"

"You were celebrating in a warehouse, yeah I heard your story and I don't care. I want you to tell me about the guys who attacked you."

"A warehouse is as good a place as any. It's an old Russian custom!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what happened."

"Some guy calls me, when I'm outside with my good pal Rodion, says some stupid riddle and then boom! I'm falling into the sewer and all goes black. Then I wake up and have to listen to your frankly ridiculous accusations."

"So you didn't see a mo…a big guy with pale skin that's all, uh, scaly?"

"Err…no? I think you need to lay off of them donuts, my friend. Or at least scale down on the acid you dunk 'em in. You should be careful with the stuff you buy in Gotham. Remember when Scarecrow tried his hand at the business a while back? You never know what the hell you're getting."

"Thanks for the advice, "friend". I'll be seeing you."

He watched as the lowlife staggered away and lit a cigar. He dropped it almost immediately as some of the trash lying on the ground beside him stood up and revealed itself to be a wide-eyed bum.

"I seen it. I seen the monster."

"The monster?"

"It tries to hide, tries to look like one of us, but it ain't. No fancy trench-coat and hat is going to hide what it is. An alligator without a tail, walking on two legs."

"Where did you see it?"

"Two blocks down. I was just mindin' my own business when one of the manholes is pushed aside. Up comes a suitcase, then a hat, then the beast. It's prolly one of those things that gets flushed down the toilet while its little, then gets into the radiation down there and learns to talk."

"It talked?"

"Yessir. It looked at me and said "Good evening". I ain't lying! No-one believes me 'cept Murphy 'cause he seen it too, but I ain't lying!"

"Where can I find Murphy?"

"Everywhere and nowhere, depending on the days. If he has money he'll be at Cossacks in the soviet part of town."

"Little Odessa?"

"Yeah. Soviet territory."

He handed the bum a buck and went searching for Murphy. From behind him he could hear the bum yelling after him.

"I'll tell ya 'bout the green alien chick that's taken over the park for two dollars!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivy walked through the temporary opening in the growth and entered her lair. She had been looking around to see how well her scheme had worked out. Turns out it worked perfectly. The news stations were all showing a special news broadcast, covering the pharmacy killings, perpetrated by that horrible Riddler character.

She let out a throaty laugh. Who would have thought that Harley's silly little idea would actually work? Speaking of the devil, there she was, hunched over a plant and furiously scribbling something with a crayon.

Ivy peered over Harley's shoulder. She was planning how to bust the Joker out. So far she had drawn a big building labeled "Arkham", a stick figure with a jesters cap and a bazooka and on one wall of the building was a big splotch of color along with the words "Kablooey". Looking at her face she saw Harley was pouting.

"It'll all work out in the end, petal. Today was the first of many triumphs, you should be pleased with yourself."

"I guess."

Her plants lowered a few bottles of red wine to the floor.

"We should celebrate our victory, don't you think?"

"Sure, Red. We can do that. Maybe it'll clear my head."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scarecrow stepped outside for a walk after a long night of successful re-decorating and experimenting. He had proved his theory, if people were already scared when they were dosed with the toxin the effect was that much stronger.

He was also certain that he could create phobias. He currently had six people in three test groups and the first results were very positive. One group was starting to show nervousness without the effect of the toxin at the mere mention of jellybeans, another was similarly unnerved by the pictures of wildlife he had put up on the walls of their respective cells, and both subjects in the last group started hyperventilating when he offered them milk. There was no limit to what he could do.

Halfway through his stroll he noticed someone had broken into his amusement park. Someone was sitting in one of the devices, a machine with over-sized teacups for seats. He supposed some sort of spinning was included in the machine's function, but he had never really cared for carnivals.

As he came closer he saw that the device was themed after Alice in Wonderland. It had countless tasteless paintings of various characters from the story. The man was short, wearing a blue coat and a top hat. An eerie smile was fixed on his face even before he noticed Scarecrow. It was unnaturally wide.

"This is private property. You shouldn't be here."

The smile did not diminish as the man turned to look at him.

"Oh, dear. Wrong story. But you'll have to do. Please, sit. Have some tea."

He sat down opposite the man in the huge teacup.

"No tea, thank you. Now tell me, how exactly did you get here?"

Suddenly, all his goons stood up from the floor behind another teacup. They stared blankly forward, some sort of cards fixed to their heads.

"'The time has come', the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things'", the man said. Scarecrow reasoned that it was not going to be easy to rid himself of this little pest. Best to simply wait and let him grow bored of staying.

"Just lock up when you're gone then, will you?"

"Actually, I would like to rent a room.", he said and put a suitcase on the small table between them. He opened it, revealing that it held nothing but cash. Not that he really needed the cash, but Scarecrow was not going to say no to a million dollars.

"Alright. You can stay anywhere in this park, apart from the haunted house. But I need my guards lucid."

"They can function perfectly, if not better, this way. I'm sure you don't mind. They were very rude."

The goons set off in different directions, each heading for their posts. The lunatic could stay, it didn't matter. Scarecrow would simply kill him sometime in his sleep. Until that day he would just have to put up with some company. And not having to listen to the henchmen was actually quite nice.

He took the suitcase and set off for the haunted house. Looking back he saw the madman was still smiling at him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Sorry about the Bat-noculars, I just couldn't resist.

I think Little Odessa is actually a part of town in the comics. Dynamo Kiev is a football team.

I am not quite sure if Ivy is physically able to get drunk but let's just say she can.

The madman in the last scene is based off of his look from BTAS. When he says Scarecrow is from the wrong story it's a reference to The Wizard of Oz.


	15. Chapter 15

He ran as fast as his small legs could carry him, racing for the safety of the fields. Their laughter and jeers were impossibly loud behind him. He darted past the first cornstalks, picking up speed the further he got. Finally, he stopped. The bullies were still shouting behind him, but he was sure he had shaken them. He was safe, at least for the time being. They would never find him in the corn and he had the old scarecrow to keep him company. But still something didn't feel quite right.

"What are you doing here, boy?", a terribly familiar voice croaked behind him.

He spun around with a scream and saw his grandmother, reaching for him with her bony hands. She looked old as ever, the only thing keeping her alive her unbridled cruelty and hatred for everyone and everything.

"Were you harassing the other kids again, boy? Exactly like your wretch of a father. I ought to simply put you out of your misery!"

She scratched at him with her claw-like hands, reaching for his neck as he crawled backwards to escape her. Something gave way under him and he fell down into a dark and dank cellar.

Before he could stand up, something grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall.

"Who are you working for?!", the Bat-demon roared at him. It hissed and snarled as he stuttered in reply.

Suddenly its voice changed dramatically, but still it kept shaking him. "Awaken, dear landlord, awaken. Your shouting is most unsettling."

He opened his eyes and immediately jerked back. The little pest was leaning over him, his face uncomfortably close. The smile was greatly diminished, but still present.

"It would seem the Sandman is being most unkind this night. Have some tea and calm your frazzled nerves."

The short man pulled him to his feet and ushered him to the next room, where a kettle and two teacups sat waiting on a table. After forcefully pushing him into one of the chairs he sat down himself. The smile was back in full force.

"Nightmares are dreadful things, but good company and better tea are more than enough to brighten one's mood."

Yes, the man had to die. Most preferably in a very brutal fashion. He would no doubt make a good test subject first. Scarecrow's mind started working at a feverish pace, devising numerous elaborate tortures until he was interrupted by a loud exclamation.

"Change places!"

The short man darted over to the only empty chair at the table and kept on drinking his tea. He'd kill the strange little man later. He was much too tired to cause proper terror and besides, the man was better company than the people in his dreams.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey Bullock watched as his informant downed the drink he had bought for him. They were in a seedy little joint called Cossacks. Most of the other patrons gave him angry glares and some were huddled in little groups, talking in some unknown language, probably about him.

For their sake, he hoped they didn't decide to try to get rid of him. For his sake, he hoped they did. A little brawl would be a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds.

"So, what do you wanna know about the thing?", his companion started.

"Everything you know."

"Alrighty then. His name's Waylon, he always wears a trench coat and nothing under it, most of the time he's got a fedora as well, along with some shaggy pants. I met him a few times at little mob gambling joints, not a very good player, owes a lot. The only reason they haven't tried to get rid of him is because they're scared shitless of him. But the last time I saw him, he was loaded. Early in the evening at least."

"He tell you where he got the dough?"

"Nah, just said he did a job. No-one really wanted to know more. Even after he got drunk he didn't really say much about it. He did wave his new gun around, though. Guards didn't like that, so they tried to get him out of there. That's something **he** don't like, so he starts breaking bones. When he's done and they's all groaning on the floor, he decides to get his money back, with interest. Stole from most of the other gamblers, then took the safe and carried it outside. Probably trying to bash it open even as we speak."

"So he's not too popular with the mob right now?"

"Nope. Doubt they'll off him though, no-one in their right mind would dare go into the sewers and try to kill that guy. The city may be theirs but that place belongs to him, glamorous as it is. They might try to cap him if he starts showing his mug again, but he's not going to do that for no reason."

"He lives in the sewer?"

"So I heard. Smells like it, too. I guess he has to come up to eat, but he'll never stray far from his territory. He's got ambitions though, used to talk about starting a gang when he got some cash. So maybe he'll be up and around even though they mean to kill him. He ain't exactly smart, but I bet he's as cunning as his namesake."

"His namesake?"

"The crocodile. I heard he used to be a fighter, called himself Killer Croc. Had to ditch that job 'cause he killed the guy he was fighting. And that's all I know."

"If ya hear anything, call me. I'll see you around."

Bullock really hoped he didn't have to go into the sewers to catch the creep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As he jumped out of the Tumbler and looked around the cave, Batman could immediately sense something was wrong. Stepping over to the computer he saw a green slip of paper waiting for him.

He wasted no time and rushed upstairs and found Alfred tied up in the living room. After freeing him, replacing the security system and making a quick round through the house he went back into the cave to look at the letter.

Picking it up, he immediately saw a strange dust coated his gloves. Running it through a test revealed it to be poisonous. He put it in a container and read it through the glass.

_Half-hearted, I know. I meant to stay and greet you in person, but something came up. We'll have to catch up some other time. But I still had a wonderful time reading your notes. And don't worry, your secret is perfectly safe with me, I promise. I'll give you the next clue later, when I've dealt with the little problem. Try not to miss me too much._

_PS:"Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot"? You do realize you're not talking about a different species, don't you?_

Reporting the break-in would only complicate things and explaining to the police why the Riddler had taken nothing and left no riddle would be hard, so he opted to keep this a secret.

He moved upstairs to see if Alfred was alright. He'd give him a day off too, if his friend would accept it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After searching around the park for more than half an hour, Riddler and his men had found a strange tunnel, hidden by the vegetation, that lead down into the earth. After assuring his hired help that there was absolutely no risk at all, they made their way down.

After walking in the dark and cramped tunnel for about five minutes, they reached a large cave. It was filled with plants of all sizes and shapes and most of them did not belong in a place like Gotham. There were vines growing on the walls that glowed, lighting the area slightly. There was a strange pond further down the cave, a low noise of running water emanating from it.

"Hello!", Riddler shouted, his voice echoing for a full minute before silence reclaimed the cave.

He thought he saw movement on the pond and decided to move over to it. His assistants grudgingly followed him.

"Boss, who exactly do ya expect to find here-Aaaah!"

Turning around, he saw all his aides were dangling from the roof, struggling against their restraints. Which seemed to be vines. Before he could figure out how exactly that was possible, a voice sounded from somewhere behind him.

"Choose your next words carefully, their lives depend on it."

He turned around again and took in the speaker's appearance. She was slightly shorter than he was, her hair was red, her skin a light shade of green(apparently the rumors hadn't simply been the active imaginations of his sources) and her lips as well. And she was as naked as the day she was born, which was slightly unsettling for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend.

The initial surprise gone, righteous fury once again bubbled to the surface.

"I'll keep it friendly then. Why the hell couldn't you have framed someone else for your amateurish little stunt?!"

A sickening crack sounded behind him, along with some whimpers from his remaining employees.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Oh, how very intimidating and utterly pathetic. I work hard to establish a reputation and then you demolish it for nothing more than a little diversion so you can stay hidden longer? Do you honestly think this will fool anyone with half a brain? And what the hell is the connection between a clock and poisoned drugs?!"

"No, boss! Please! I don't wanna die! Remember what you said about senseless killing?"

"Yes, dolt, I do. But I'm not the one killing you, am I?! And dying for the show is in no way senseless. This little wretch has disgraced my work and is now trying to threaten me. What do you think I am, woman, an idiot?!"

"Yes, that about sums it up."

To his slight astonishment, a plant had moved onto her and was now serving as clothing. He decided he would not be deterred from his rant by something as measly as the laws of nature being turned on its head, and continued.

"Your oh-so-clever retorts are almost as tasteless as your work. Don't you have at least a modicum of style?", his voice suddenly changed completely,"On a side note, you really have to tell me how you make the plants move. And why your skin is green.", he went back to being angry, "But if you try anything like this again, my retribution will be…"

He trailed off as Harley Quinn cartwheeled to Ivy's side, naked and slightly drunk by the looks of it.

"Hi, Eddie! Ivy, this is Eddie and Eddie, this is Ivy."

"Err, yes. Charmed."

"I'm sure", the green witch said.

"She gave me some funky fluid and now I can do stuff I only dreamed of before! Mistah J will be so impressed!"

"That's…nice.", he finally managed.

"Boss? Remember us, still in mortal danger?"

"Quiet!", both Riddler and Ivy hissed at the poor hired help. Harley looked up at them and blinked confusedly.

"Are we havin' a party, Red?"

Ivy let out a sigh and the henchmen were pulled up, disappearing through the thick vegetation.

"No, we're just coming to an agreement."

"How come you sobered up already?"

"Because I decided to. Now stop talking. And you, meatbag, what's to keep me from killing you, other than Harley's fondness of you?"

"Glad you asked!", he said and reached into his pocket. "See this little cube? Now that I've activated it, I need to say the stand-by code every three minutes or we'll all be blown sky high!", he announced with a wide grin.

"And you'd be willing to die here, far away from your nocturnal boyfriend and your schemes?"

"It's M.A.D., I admit. But at least this way, I won't lose."

"But do you really want to do it?"

At that moment, something very strange happened. Time seemed to stop and he could see nothing but her, her blazing hair, her radiant eyes and her frankly gorgeous green-colored skin. He felt like he was being drawn closer and she resembled a goddess more than a regular woman. How he could ever have thought of harming her, he couldn't understand.

"Woah. I mean… no. Arthur Wynne."

The little box gave a little sound and he placed it back in his pocket.

"How about you do me a favor? To make up for this intrusion."

"_Anything._", a dopey-eyed Riddler answered with an adoring smile on his face.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Arthur Wynne invented the crossword puzzle. M.A.D. stands for mutually assured destruction, a concept from the cold war. The funky fluid Harley talks about is from the comics, it made her stronger and immune to poisons. "Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot" has been Batman's motto for quite a while now.

Apart from Batman's scene I am quite pleased with this chapter. Reviews make me all tingly inside.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Horribly, frighteningly short, I know. I just felt an obligation to publish something, and maybe getting something out might knock me out of my laziness. In other news, today is my birthday so if you don't review I have some bad news. You're simply _EVIL_.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was early morning when a lowly henchman named Mike woke to the sound of moving greenery. This is not what he immediately recognized it as, but rather what it revealed itself to be as the Riddler slowly ascended from the newly opened whole in the ground, managing to look dignified and confident-looking even though his legs were in the grips of vines.

It wasn't until he was firmly above ground that the boss deigned to look down at him where he lay. The halo around Riddler's head, caused by the bright sunlight behind him, made for an absurd effect.

"A new day has risen.", the boss exclaimed grandly.

"Uh, yeah, boss."

The boss struck a pose and tilted his face upwards with a wide smile, basking in the sun.

"Do you feel the warm rays of the sunlight, smell the fresh fragrance of leaves in the air, the soft summer breeze on your hairy cheeks?"

"Y-yes?"

"And?"

"It,'s…nice?"

"It is the pure essence of nature which we are lucky enough to experience on this day. Enjoy it while you can, friends, for it may not last much longer. Nature is under constant attack from the dirty hands of man! Will we simply stand by as mankind destroys the earth in its stupidity?!"

His pals had all come to by now, and all looked just as perplexed as he was. Sure, the boss liked his own voice, but the content of this little speech was something new.

"…No?"

"Nay! We will most certainly not! This city is the perfect target for nature's wrath! But in order to do that, I will require the use of a phone."

Mike handed the boss his phone and watched with a confused expression as Riddler rattled off something in German to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"So you're not mad at the creepy chick anymore?", he asked as the boss returned his phone.

"Oh, no, no. She's actually an avid fan who was simply trying to emulate my genius. A perfectly reasonable individual. Now come, we have things to plan, time to kill."

They all followed the boss to the cars, exchanging befuddled looks.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Harley had sobered up somewhat. The night's events were hazy and a bit too absurd to be believable. First they'd been "celebrating" as Ivy so delicately put it. It wasn't love and she didn't have the Joker's magical touch, but boy was she something.

Then Diddler showed up and started blathering about something terribly boring, so she'd blocked out the sound of his and Ivy's voices and supplied her own dialogue for them in her head. In her much more exciting version of what happened, Mr. Green had come home to Mrs. Green fooling around with some floozy(she was perfect for the part) and they had a heated and passionate argument. Then Mrs. Green lightly drugged Mr. Green and held a long winded speech about the evils of mankind and blah, blah, blah. Not even an expert script-writer like her could make anything interesting out of that. So she'd decided to plan Mr. and Mrs. Green's future together. There would obviously have to be domestic abuse, for dramatic purposes, and they were perfect for that, what with their drugging and trying to blow each other up. Then maybe Fatman would fall in love with Mr. Green and Fatman and Mrs. Green would be constantly vying for Mr. Green's romantic attentions. It was pure gold and she resolved to send the idea to some big producer. Maybe it would raise enough money so her and Mistah J could settle down in a lovely house somewhere far away from Gotham.

Then, satisfied with her creative genius, she fell asleep to the light drone of nature's avenger's speech.

"Mankind, you see, is a cancer on the earth…."

Sleep for a while, wake up.

"The herd as grown much too large and must be cut down to size…"

Sleep some more, wake up again.

"So go out and repay Nature all her many favors."

And voilá! It was morning and Diddler was just leaving. Red was bound to be in the mood for some more carnage in the interests of nature.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred was slightly annoyed, but mostly... well, puzzled. Someone had called and Master Bruce was still down in his little cave, forcing Alfred to raise his bruised body off the comfortable bed and shuffle towards the phone. His polite greeting of "Stately Wayne Manor, how may I help you?" had come off as anything as polite. Then someone had said something in German and abruptly hung up. Even though he was quite rusty, he recognized it as a riddle and quickly wrote it down. He then shuffled further down, into the cave and over to Batman who was still seated at the computer, currently reading reports about alligators in the Gotham sewers and information about an individual named Waylon Jones. Doubtlessly he had foregone sleep completely.

A quick translation later and they had it:

_It cannot be seen,_

_cannot be felt,_

_cannot be heard,_

_cannot be smelt,_

_It lies behind stars_

_ and under hills,_

_and empty holes it fills,_

_it comes first_

_and follows after,_

_ends life, kills laughter.  
_

The suffering would apparently never end.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: There may not be much to review because of the short length of this, but it would be much appreciated. Besides, there are probably only two chapters left so maybe some reviews would inspire me to greatness.


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Sorry for the long delay. Damn school with its uncanny ability to drain the life out of me. Suppose I should also curse Batman: Arkham Asylum for being so good, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Anyway, please review.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce had solved the riddle quickly with the help of the internet. Darkness. Knowing Riddler it probably meant cutting off the city's power. But then again, knowing Riddler, maybe it didn't.

Whatever the case, he had no choice but to check it out. Just before midnight he set off for the city.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost midnight and if not for his undying hate, Harvey Bullock would have left his post long ago. He'd been forced to take a leave from the force, to "cope with the trauma". The upside to that was that he now had plenty of time to patrol the area where Croc was said to surface. There were fifteen manholes that he had to keep an eye on and so far nothing had happened. But that was fine, it just gave him more time to sharpen his resolve. When he saw the beast, it would suffer, but he would not attack in blind fury. No, his anger was cold and calculating. He would wait for the perfect opportunity and he would take it.

Lo and behold, at that exact moment, one of the manholes was moved aside and a hand reached up. But the person that followed was not the beast. He could be described as beastly, rather large and covered in filth, but he was not the beast. Neither were the four that followed. After the last one emerged they stood around the manhole in silence, one of them removing a sawn-off shotgun from underneath his coat and stroking it lovingly. Then a big grayish head with a fedora popped out of the manhole.

It snarled at the man, who hurriedly concealed his weapon again. Harvey reached for his phone.

"Montoya, I need backup at 32nd Parker street, by the Finger river. It's him, Renee. With five others, all armed. I'm gonna follow 'em."

Croc now stood by the others and said something Harvey couldn't hear. He towered over the others, his hulking frame reminding Bullock of something from a horror movie. The group set off and after a few seconds, Bullock left his car and set after them.

Two streets down the group stopped in front of a small three-story apartment building. Killer Croc barked some more orders, two goons went around the back of the house while the other three stayed with Croc at the front. Harvey called Montoya again and gave his location.

A few minutes later Croc stepped up to the door, two sawn-off shotguns drawn. The two thugs with him drew their pistols and trained them at the door. Bullock drew his.

With one mighty kick, Croc smashed the door right off its hinges and barged in, his two thugs following. Bullock heard a shot and a scream and ran toward the house. More gunshots followed.

He peeked into the doorway and saw a man in a suit lying in a widening pool of blood at the beginning of the stairs. The backdoor slammed open and the other two of Croc's gang ran in, catching sight of Bullock's head in the doorway.

He jerked back as they opened fire and crouched down. Killer Croc yelled from upstairs and one of the goons started ranning up the stairs. Grabbing the opportunity, Harvey leaned from his cover and shot the ascending man twice in the legs. The man crumpled like a sack of potatoes and screamed. The remaining gangster fired at the doorway, but Bullock had taken cover once again.

Five police cars screeched to a halt on the street behind him. Inside the building, the roar of gunfire was rising to deafening heights. Peeking back through the door he glimpsed the second gunman fleeing out the back door. He pointed the thug out to one of the cops that had just arrived and went in along with three policemen as three other cops surrounded the building and blocked off all possible exits.

Two of those who went in with him started checking the first floor as Harvey and one other cop slowly went up the stairway. They reached the second floor, but there was no-one alive in there. Harvey counted one Croc henchman, three men in suits and eight men in regular clothing. Playing cards littered the room and a roulette table was situated at the end of the room. This was a gambling den.

The gunshots had died down on the floor above them as they kept on going up the stairs. As they reached the top, Harvey could see Killer Croc and one of his thugs were the only ones left standing. Croc was stuffing a bag with money from a safe in the corner, but the thug had noticed them. He raised his gun but was shot down by the other cop.

Killer Croc jumped to his feet and blasted from one of his shotguns in their direction. Bullock jumped down a few steps in the stairs and escaped harm, but his partner had his thigh torn to shreds by the barrage and crumpled down where he stood.

As Harvey reached the top of the stairs again, he caught sight of Croc's back as he jumped through a window and through a window on the adjacent building. Running over to the broken glass and looking across to the broken window on the other side, then down at the ground below, Harvey Bullock realized that no, nothing human could possibly make that jump.

It was at that moment that a large shadow sped past him and flew through the window and landed perfectly on the other side. It took a second to take in its surroundings, then kept running after Croc.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddler looked at his watch and then at the people that were fastened to the floor of what used to be the power plant's mess hall. _Darkness._ How the hell had Batman not figured that out? Maybe it was a bit vague, but still, a tiny smidgen of insight was all that was needed to figure it out. It looked like the black king had yet again decided he had something better to do than play the game. He needed to be taught a lesson. Riddler turned to his audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It's the E. Nigma show!", he announced to the reluctant pawns, formerly the workers of the power plant.

"It seems like our dear Dumb Knight won't be able to make it. This is bad news because now, instead of having your lives in the hands of an almost capable individual, you imbeciles have to fend for yourselves."

He stepped over to one of the contestants and tapped the metal contraption on the man's head with his foot.

"Those big metal boxes on your heads are filled with various surprises, all of them nasty. If you answer incorrectly the box will be the last thing you see. If you try to pry it off, same result. There are five rounds, sixty seconds to answer each riddle and they increase in difficulty as we progress. But don't worry, I acknowledge the fact that you're most likely not even close to the Batman's level of intelligence so I'll keep it relatively simple. There are microphones in your boxes so you don't have to shout, but remember to answer loud and clear, a muffled reply is an incorrect reply. Answering for someone else is also forbidden. When I knock on your box, it means it's your turn to answer. Everyone ready? Good!"

He walked to the first of eight contestants and tapped on the metal box that completely obscured the person's face.

"I get wetter the more I dry. What am I?"

"I-I…uh.", came the muffled reply.

"Come now, dear, don't let your nerves rule your mind. This one's easy!"

"Towel!", the man exclaimed, his relief audible."

"That's right, be proud, be very proud. Let's hear it for…", he leaned down to read the man's ID card,"…Eugene! Applaud, applaud!"

He stepped over to the next contestant and tapped the box.

"I have two arms, but fingers none. I have two feet, but cannot run. I carry well, but carry best with my feet off the ground. What am I? Sixty seconds and counting."

"Wheelbarrow."

"Yes! You, dear lady, have just proven that your rapacious wit is, at the very least, equal to that of a toddler. Well done."

He tapped the third contestant's head box.

"I am weightless, but you can see me. Put me in a bucket, and I'll make it lighter. What am I?"

"Screw you, freak! I'm not scared, you little coward! Go to hell!"

"Charming last words, sir."

Riddler pressed a button and the metal box was filled with water. He could hear the second contestant start crying as she heard the frantic thrashing of the fearless and eloquent third contestant, whose body from the shoulders down was flapping about like a fish on dry land.

Riddler moved over to number four and tapped the box, but before he could pose the question, the lady within spoke.

"I'm not afraid either. I've lived a good life, I've followed the will of the Lord and I will be rewarded. I may die here but you will burn for all eternity."

The room was silent for a few seconds before Riddler hunched over and the room filled with laughter. He bent further down and shook the woman's hand.

"Well, best of luck to you and thanks for playing.", he pressed a button on his remote and the dull noise of a spike piercing her skull sounded from the box.

"Now then! Contestant number one, this one's for you. The wise man is sure of it. The fool knows it. The rich man wants it. The greatest hero fears it. If you eat it you'll die. What is it?"

Precious seconds passed and no reply came.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock."

"Nothing?"

"Bingo! Congratulations, Eugene, I can safely say you're much smarter than most ten year old children."

"Contestant number two! You break it even if you name it. What is it?"

"Silence."

"Such confidence! You'll go far, I can just feel it!"

"Eugene, ready for the next one? Fantastic. I am not alive but I grow, I don't have lungs but I need air, I don't have a mouth but water kills me. What am I?"

After 45 seconds of unbearable tension, the answer came. "F-f-fire?"

"There's actually just one f in fire but I'll let that pass. Wanna guess what would have happened if you'd gotten that one wrong? No, we don't really have the time. Number two! This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flowers…", for some inexplicable reason he felt a chill as he uttered those last two words,"…, gnaws iron, bites steel, grinds hard stones to meal, slays king, ruins town, and beats high mountain down. What is it?"

"Time."

"Correct! Your mental prowess is astonishing, truly astonishing. Now then, Eugene, round four. I weaken all men for hours each day, I show you strange visions when you're away, I take you by night, by day take you back, none suffer to have me, but do from my lack. What am I?"

A tense silence passed over the room. Sixty seconds passed.

"Time's up! But I have to admit, you've grown on me, Eugene. You get thirty extra seconds. My gift to you."

Time crawled on.

"Time's up. Sorry Eug.."

"Sleep! It's sleep!"

"I knew you wouldn't let me down. Number two, here's yours: I run, though I have no legs to be seen. I possess no heat, yet I do have steam. I have no voice to let words out, but from far away you can still hear me shout. What am I?"

"A waterfall."

"You've probably just heard this all before, but that's not against the rules. Eugene, final round. Often talked of, never seen, ever coming, never been, daily looked for, never here, still approaching, coming near. Thousands for its visit wait but alas for their fate, though they expect me to appear, they will never find me here. What am I?"

Eugene's fingers twitched nervously as the seconds flew by.

"Oh, what the heck, you can ask number two."

"Tomorrow."

"Right again, dear lady. Do you believe in love at first sight? Neither did I, until now. Anyway, here we go: What's at the beginning of eternity, the middle of forever, and the end of time?"

"The letter E."

"Wonderful! Marvelous!", he clapped his hands together and shook both their hands.

"Thank you, Eugene and number two, and congratulations on your prolonged existence. Have a good night!"

He motioned for one of his boys. "Michael, it's time."

An explosion rocked the power plant, followed by more explosions all over town that destroyed backup generators in every police station and hospital, except the new(if only temporary) Gotham General because they had suffered enough over the year.

Riddler stopped at the entrance and bowed, even if no-one could see him.

"Th-th-that's all, folks!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Batman caught sight of Killer Croc moments after he jumped into the second building. Running as fast as he could, he quickly gained on the monster. As they ran down the last stairway, Batman caught him with a flying kick that slammed him straight into and through the door.

Croc snarled as he got to his feet, droplets of blood sliding off his chin and landing on the street.

"You got a deathwish?"

Batman was not in the mood for friendly banter, so a fist to the face served as his answer. By the look on Croc's face, the blow probably hurt Batman more than it did him. The giant swung at Batman with a meaty fist, sending him sprawling. A timely batarang stab to the criminal's side barely saved him from having his face bitten off, Croc's impressive jaws closing with a hiss as he felt the pain.

Rolling away, Batman threw a flash-grenade at his opponent and shielded himself from the flash with his cape. His head still throbbed from the earlier blow and as he shakily got to his feet, he was seconds away from being crushed by the manhole cover being thrown at him. The cover smashed into the wall where he had stood, some of the bricks crumbling under the impact.

Croc charged, but was struck down by a grappling hook shot to his shoulder. The scream that followed sounded anything but human, and so was the resilience that allowed him to stand up again. With the hook dangling from his shoulder, half embedded in his skin, he charged again and smashed Batman into a wall before slamming him into the ground. The monster held him down, its face inches from his. A sound emanated from his mouth, deep rumbling laughter.

"From one urban myth to another, you ain't nuthin'. This is my town now."

He grabbed Batman's throat and started squeezing. Batman's vision started fading, his struggles impotent. Suddenly, multiple explosions sounded from far away, a light tremor passed through the ground and all the lights went out. _Darkness._

Croc slackened his grip and looked around in confusion before setting his sights back on Batman. The grin on his face widened, his teeth showing.

_BLAM! _

The grin faded immediately and his grip went slack. Blood sprayed on Batman's face and chest and he rolled Croc off of him. Standing up, he was treated to the sight of Harvey Bullock with a smoking gun. There was a gunshot wound in Croc's other shoulder, the fight knocked completely out of him.

"I'll take it from here. Get going before someone else sees you. If they ask, I scared ya off.", Batman could register Bullock saying through the haze. He nodded and grappled his way up to the rooftops, where he stayed for a few minutes to recover before setting off for the power plant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Riddler may be slightly influenced by Batman: Arkham Asylum here. Even if he doesn't have an on-screen appearance he is kinda scary in it. The extra violence is probably because I've been reading such violent stories recently. Serial Killer by shann1 and Shadow of the bat by Nixie-doodle. Check them out if you've got the time.


	18. Chapter 18

Batman arrived at the Shreck coal plant twenty minutes after the Riddler's departure. The power was still off in most of the city, including all the big hospitals except the new Gotham General, which meant most of the city's patients were being sent there under police surveillance. Gordon was convinced Riddler was going to try something there, but Batman wasn't so sure. It was more likely that destroying the power plant and two of the hospitals' back-up generators was simply Riddler upping the stakes.

The power plant's generator had been all but obliterated by the explosion and fire had started to spread through the building. The fire department's sirens could be heard in the distance as Batman entered the other building on the site. He walked down a long corridor, entering the mess hall silently. On the floor he could see four people, their heads obscured by strange green boxes.

"Don't move, I'm going to get you free.", he rasped in his most friendly Batman voice, which admittedly wasn't very friendly. Two of the people started shaking. A quick examination showed the only reason the other two weren't was because they were no longer among the living.

After slowly cracking the box open and disarming four lethal contraptions within the first box, Batman removed it from the occupants' head. The man slowly got to his feet as Batman started working on the second box.

"Did he say anything unusual, something that might reveal his plan? Something he shouldn't have said?", Batman asked as he tinkered with the box.

"He, uh, h-he said good night.", the man stuttered.

"Where are the rest of the employees?"

"He sent them away before he put us in the boxes. Told his thugs to lock them up somewhere nearby. Said they'd be alright."

The second box was open, revealing a wide-eyed woman. Batman looked through the room, searching for clues, and found one on the door he had come through. On it was a large picture of Riddler posing with a Tommy-gun and a cigar, smiling wide. Batman ripped the photo off and ran back to the Batmobile.

He called Alfred as he started the engine and set off back downtown, passing the fire squadron on the way, glimpsing one of the firefighters staring at the Batmobile with a gaping mouth.

"Alfred, find everything you can about Tommy-guns and cigars."

"The Thompson submachine gun is of American origin, invented by John T. Thompson in 1919. It had many nicknames, including the "Tommy gun", the "Trench broom", the "Chicago Piano"…"

"Put all those nicknames in the city grid search engine, under clubs and restaurants."

There was a short silence before the butler spoke up.

"…There's a club named The Chicago Piano Club on Kennedy street."

"I'll check it out. Keep searching."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, no further facts coming from Alfred. Batman came to a screeching stop in front of the club and jumped out. He put the car on autopilot and watched it speed off down the deserted street before turning back to the club. He fired a grapnel and flew up to the roof of the building, searching for an entrance, finding only windows barred and secured. This was obviously a trap, but he didn't care. This had gone on for long enough.

He made his way back to the ground and opened the double-door entrance. He heard a whizzing sound and lunged forward, a metal barrier slamming down and blocking the exit.

He was in the entrance, a dimly-lit corridor containing nothing of interest. Batman walked further down the corridor, opening another set of doors that led to the main room. The usually bustling place was completely empty. The room was spacious and dim-lit, the only light in the room coming from a dozen chandeliers situated all through the dining area. On his left was the bar and a door that presumably led to the kitchen. On his right he could see a staircase leading to the second floor. The cloth on the tables and the drapes on the windows were a dark red, the floor a deep brown. In the middle of the room was a stage with a piano. Throughout the room were dozens of cameras Batman was sure were not a part of the regular decoration.

"Welcome!", the Riddler's voice boomed from some unseen speakers. "I bet you're wondering how I convinced Falcone to hand the place over to me. To make a long story short, a little flightless bird whispered some sound advice in his ear. But I'm sure you're more interested in the game, so let's begin. It's simple enough, really. You just have to find me."

Batman walked to the bar and peered at the bottles of alcohol. One bottle immediately stood out, filled with some green liquid. He jumped over the bar table and examined the flask. The label read: "Tempus Fugit".

"Found a clue already? Such prowess! And yet, I'm bored. So let's make things interesting. You're going down, friend."

Batman turned around and saw a tile had been removed from the ceiling, the barrel of a Gatling gun poking through. He threw himself to the ground as the bullets started flying, the deafening sound of the gun nearly blotting out the sound of the bottles above him being shattered.

He crawled through the kitchen door, drenched in, and reeking of alcohol. Bullets tore the upper part of the door apart as Batman made it to the safety of the kitchen. He slowly got to his feet.

"Sorry if I scared you. Just wanted to make sure you stayed on your toes."

He looked around the room, eyes finally resting on a cuckoo clock that looked decidedly out of place in the professionally furnished kitchen. After a short examination, he removed it from the wall. Behind was a gap in the wall, revealing a lever. He pulled it and a hidden door slid open on the other side of the room. He approached it and peered inside. It was the wine cellar.

"What could be down there?", Riddler piped up again,"Will the wine bottles explode, covering you in acid? Will you become inebriated? Only one way to find out. If you dare, that is."

He slowly climbed down the stairs and entered the vast cellar. There was a lone bottle of wine on the floor by the wall furthest from him. He walked toward it, muscles ready to spring into action, eyes scanning for traps. There were tiny holes in some of the stone tiles of the floor. He took note of their location.

He reached the bottle without incident and picked it up. The sign on the label was of a simplistically drawn fish, the name: _A little trip to Heaven_

"Recognize it? Just a quick reminder that Jesus loves you! But I had some trouble with this one. I asked myself: Riddler, what could possibly be a good trap for a clue that centered around Christianity? Well, I answered, it's obvious. Purgatory!"

The sound of sliding stone grinding against stone could be heard, followed by the sploshing of liquid landing on the cold stone floor. There were multiple small openings in the wall and liquid was flowing out of around he could see that the tiny holes in some of the tiles were emitting small flames. The liquid, presumably flammable, was closing in from all over the room.

He sprinted down the corridor, jumping over all the holes that got in his way with all the grace an exhausted crime-fighter could muster. The liquid at the stairway was mere inches from the flame. With a roar, he grabbed a batarang and jumped. The moment seemed to drag on forever, his body flying above the floor, the liquid catching the flame, the incredible heat he felt below him. Finally, he smashed ungracefully into the stone steps with the flames catching the alcohol on his cape. He twirled around and cut it in half, barely avoiding being roasted alive within his suit. He climbed up the steps on shaky legs.

"Well done, if overly dramatic. Any closer to finding me yet? No? Guess you aren't quite as good as the rumors make you out to be. Oh, well. At least I can have fun watching you stumble into the next trap."

When he found Riddler, he was going to make it hurt. He repeated this in his mind as he re-entered the main hall. He walked to the middle of the room and an idea struck him. He knelt down. The Riddler would know he was up to something but he used his cape to obscure his actions.

"No, the next clue is not the floor."

He stood up and kept scanning the room. There. In the corner of the smoking area was a painting. A painting of the last meal. But it had been changed. Jesus was wearing a green bowler hat. He walked over to the painting and stared at it. Jesus was also sporting a unibrow and smoking a fat cigar.

"Heheh."

He froze on the spot and held his breath. He was sure he'd heard a soft hissing sound. Batman retrieved a gas mask from his belt and put it on. He started walking along the wall, away from the smoking area.

"That was quick. Detective's intuition? Very impressive."

He passed three paintings that looked perfectly ordinary. The fourth one however, did not. It was a self-portrait by Frida Kahlo, but there was something off about it. Then it struck him: She was grinning. Faster than he could react, the painting sprang off of the wall and hit him full force. He toppled to the ground, the painting following suit.

"That's no way to enjoy art, you oaf. It's explicitly forbidden to touch the artwork. Don't do this again."

He threw the painting off with a grunt and got back to his feet. He looked at the hole in the wall and the spring that had propelled the painting at him. Nothing. Then he looked back at the painting, which now had its back facing up. There was an arrow pointing away from the wall.

He walked closer to the center of the room and scrutinized his surroundings. He looked up at the cameras. Five in all. This was the perfect opportunity to mask his actions. He yelled and threw batarang after batarang at them, smashing every one.

"A sore loser are we? Think you've gained anything by that? I don't need to see you. There's nothing you can do to stop me. On- or off-screen."

He looked around again, and saw it. On one of the tables was a picture of Castro with one of his cigars. The picture did not seem to be changed in any way. He picked the photo up.

"You've found it! Great work, oh infallible detective."

There was a small camera fastened to the back of the photo. He crushed it and let it fall to the floor.

"So. Now that you've come to the end of the ride, don't you want to say something? You know I can hear you."

On the backside was an address. It was the building opposite the restaurant. Batman let out a short grunt of frustration.

"The only thing I've got to say to you is that I will find you. And you will pay for all of this."

He reached into his belt and pulled out a trigger.

"Pay for what, exactly? Only two of those murders can be easily pinned on me and they were just as much your fault as mine."

"Even you don't really believe that."

He made sure he was far away enough from the site he had tinkered with to be out of harm's way.

"If you had shown up, everything would have been fine. If you didn't keep trying to ignore me I wouldn't have resorted to such drastic measures. Just the rules of the game."

"What about the first two? Was that just to get my attention too?"

He made sure he was close enough to reach it in time.

"That was different. Unavoidable."

"How? What did they do to deserve death?"

"No one deserves to die, Bruce," Riddler hoped the Batman took that as a sign of sincerity and not boasting,"But they were going to ruin everything."

Batman winced at the sound of his name as he measured the time it would take him to reach the site.

"They were going to ruin your plans, so you killed them? That's not an excuse."

"Not the plans, the dream! They were going to ruin all of this. They were dangerously close to destroying **you**. Remember Dylan the cop? He knew Wuertz and Ramirez and at first he swallowed your lie hook, line and sinker. He believed you were the one that killed Wuertz and actively tried to find out who you were, to exact revenge. Then Ramirez tells him the truth, that it was Dent and that he's alive and unwell. But she tries to persuade him to keep quiet and leave Dent alone, for the sake of the city. Miraculously, he agrees. So he turns his attention and hate to you because, if not for you, none of this would have happened, all the cops would still be alive and well, receiving hefty bonuses from the mob. Because of you, life isn't easy for him anymore. And because fate apparently hates you, Dylan bumps into Coleman Reese at his favorite bar. The ball starts rolling, Reese says something he immediately regrets and Dylan threatens Reese and demands the evidence that would reveal who you are. Reese tells him who you are, but says he doesn't have the evidence, that he returned it to WE. Dylan thinks Reese is on your side and offs him, then goes through the apartment without finding any evidence. So he goes to Rafe, a man he knows has enough money to plant a spy at WE. Rafe loves the idea, he'll be the man who officially caught the Batman, catapulting his political career forward, making his dreams of becoming mayor seem like something more than just a dream. So in went the spy. I had heard of this from my sources, and seeing how I knew Rafe already, I told him I wanted in. He didn't want to so I had to throw absurd amounts of cash at him and make him believe I could be of use to him until he caved. Then I tried to sabotage their work from the inside, but it didn't work. So I did the only sensible thing, I got rid of Dylan, hoping this would scare Rafe. He just tried to speed it up, somehow thinking he could beat me. I decided it was time to pull the plug on this little operation altogether. You know how that went. Don't worry about the spy either. With her employer dead, the spy has no doubt fled. So no, I didn't kill them for some trivial reason. I did it for **you**."

Even though he knew he couldn't be blamed, it stung.

"I've come to almost regret that. It would seem you aren't worth it. Here's the final trap. All around the building are dozens of bombs. Enough to bring the whole building down on your pointy little ears. You've got thirty seconds. This is it. Goodbye."

Across the street, in the building opposite the Chicago Piano, Riddler jerked his headphones off of his head as an inhuman cry of rage tore through his eardrums. Therefore he did not hear the small explosion and the sound of crumbling mortar that preceded the fireworks. Nor did he hear the sound of a bat landing in the sewer below the restaurant and the subsequent footsteps as Batman ran as far away from the building as he could.

Riddler rushed to the roof of the building, just in time to see the Chicago Piano come crumbling down with a deafening roar. He stood there for a while, his jaw slack. As he heard the first sirens approach, however, he snapped out of it and relocated to a safer spot.

In the ten minutes it had taken him to reach the high-rise apartment he'd bought for just this purpose, the fire squadron had arrived. He stepped out to the apartment's balcony, binoculars in hand. Soon the scene was teeming with policemen trying to hold back the crowd, firefighters trying to put out the fires that had spread to the adjacent buildings and news reporters shouting their inane questions at every authority figure they spotted. It started to rain, a slow but steady drizzle. Riddler felt a bit like shedding tears of joy himself.

Time passed and there was still no sign of the Batman. A limousine had arrived, the license plate revealing it to be Wayne's. Probably the butler. The vehicle circled the area for a while before parking a short distance away. Half an hour later it left, just as it had come, unburdened by any new passengers.

He lowered the binoculars, a grin slowly forming on his face. He let out a small laugh, then dropped the binoculars and clapped his hands, his laughter rising. He spread out his arms and let out a long shout of triumph. Soon he started laughing again, turning on his heels and half-running, half-jumping into the apartment. Once inside he poured himself a drink, then started a strange and giddy little victory dance, merrily laying waste to the furniture and jerking around the room in wild abandon, all the while laughing a joyful and maniacal laugh, the kind that only the unhinged possess. The night grew darker outside.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour later, celebration was the last thing on his mind. He'd done it. Beaten the challenge, bested the Batman. His new calling was fulfilled. It was over. So what now?

Go back to being a con-man? Go back to slowly wasting away, stealing from people who simply didn't understand the game or the riddles, who couldn't hope to compete? No.

Continue puzzling the citizens of Gotham, sending clues to the clueless officers of the law, constructing elaborate deathtraps only to see blustering idiot after blustering idiot perish? No.

Fade away, back into obscurity, leave it all behind and start a new life as one of the mindless drones, wasting his time at a comfortable little home in a comfortable little life, working on harmless puzzles and mind-teasers that no one appreciated, all the while tormented by thoughts of a time gone by? No.

It was over. And as a result, so was he. He stepped out to the balcony and put his hands on the railing. He stared down, down to the ground, contemplating the dizzying height. He took one last swig of his drink, then threw the bottle down to the street. He stepped onto the railing, balancing shakily. He took his hat and threw it to the wind. He blew the world a kiss and jumped.

The fall seemed to be in slow motion, but his thoughts were going a mile a minute. His clothes flapped angrily in the wind as he watched his hat fly away, in a markedly more dignified way than he was. He thought he heard the wail of sirens below him, and it did look like police-cars were rushing up to greet him. Maybe someone had called the police because of his celebrating. No matter, they couldn't possibly take credit for catching him now. Not that such things would matter to the dead. Something new caught his attention. There was a strange black speck in the air below him, traversing through the air at a great speed. On closer inspection it seemed to have…almost human features. It was almost as if it was aiming for…WHAM!

_It can't be_. His world went pitch black, then exploded in searing pain. _It simply can't be_. He had been slammed into the wall, his breath leaving him and several ribs feeling like they'd been shattered. If he could scream he would have. There was a strange sound, like a gun being fired, and his descent slowed considerably. As he landed, he heard the strange sound again, and felt a firm hand that he hadn't noticed was there let go of him. Riddler slowly forced his eyes open and found himself looking up at Jim Gordon and a handful of other cops, guns drawn but not aimed at him. He gave a weak smile and promptly fainted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Tempus fugit means "time flies" and is often inscribed on clocks.

Shreck is a character from the Batman Returns movie.

There are some more references there but they're all pretty widely known so I won't bother explaining them.

I'm hopeless at writing action sequences, I know. The last scene didn't come out quite as epic as I had hoped but it will have to do. Now all that's left is the epilogue.

Reviews would be nice.


	19. Epilogue

It was early morning when Alfred's torment was finally brought to an end as Master Bruce limped his way out of the Batmobile.

"Morning, Alfred."

He ignored the Master's non-chalance, along with the horrendous smell, and gave his son a fierce hug.

"I was going to ask you to never do that to me again, Master Bruce, but then I remembered who I was talking to."

Bruce gave a sheepish smile.

"What happened to your leg?"

"Run of the mill sewer avalanche. You know how it is."

Alfred's response to this attempt at humor was a raised eyebrow.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, Sir, or will I have to put on my Bat-suit and beat it out of you?"

'Gotham's Third Best Smile' spread across Bruce's face.

"A deathtrap. An honest-to-god deathtrap. Almost makes me look forward to fighting the mob again."

"And this trap involved burying you in a sewer?"

"No, it involved blowing me up. But I knew something he didn't. The Chicago Piano wasn't always there, but the mob was. There's a tunnel there, from the old days when the Prohibition was still in effect. The mob used the sewers and various underground tunnels for bootlegging. The tunnel had been built over, but not very securely, so I was able to blow a hole in the ground and jump down, escaping by the skin of my teeth. It wasn't a perfect escape, I got knocked out and woke up with parts of the sewers' wall on my leg, but it did the job."

The bats residing in the cave screeched their approval.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later.

Riddler trudged slowly forward, flanked by two burly guards. He peered at the front page of a newspaper that one of the guards they passed was reading.

**New D.A. makes deal, Riddler sent to Arkham.**

**Victim**'**s families devastated. **

The guards shoved him forward but it did nothing to diminish his amusement. He hadn't really won, but he hadn't really lost either. This was just a temporary setback.

He stopped smiling as they reached the shower stalls. The guards stayed at the entry, chatting to their colleagues. He saw no one he recognized as he made his way to a vacant shower, no murderers or thugs that could ruin his mood. He turned the faucet.

The water cascaded down his shoulders and he smirked. With a little money and possibly extortion or threatening, he could make this a home away from home. A bit of manipulation and he could become king of his own corner of this asylum. Someone cleared his throat loudly behind him.

"The lost son returns. I was, uh, startin' ta worry, Eddie."

He spun around, eyes wide, and was pushed against the wall. A chill went up his spine. He was paralyzed with fear as fingers encircled his neck and slowly started squeezing.

"Welcome home, Eddie. Did ya miss Daddy?"

His eyes darted around the room. No one was coming to help him. Even the guards had decided to look the other way.

"I hear you almost broke the bat. Of course you'll never do it, but if you ever get lucky...let's just say I, uh , won't be happy."

For the first time during this encounter, Joker smiled.

"You think you're smart, but I know what you are. You're just a _schemer_. Right now, you're thinking you can escape. Hahah, ahehe, Eddie, Eddie. Escape from meeeeee?! Ya really must be insane!"

Joker barked with laughter, his putrid breath hitting Riddler squarely in the face.

"When in here, you belong to me."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Joker's intimidation scene happening in the showers isn't a sign of eroticism, I just wanted that extra sense of ick.

In case you've forgotten, the new D.A. is the one Riddler has in his pocket, he appeared in some earlier chapter. He's elected shortly after the showdown. Riddler's other stooge, the cop, will appear in the sequel.

This story is pretty far from perfect, but I'm still happy with it. I did go a little overboard with cramming characters into it, but I just couldn't resist trying my hand at writing them all. It didn't do wonders for the overarching storyline but it was still fun. I haven't quite gotten Joker and Poison Ivy down, Scarecrow and Mad Hatter are passable, but I'm content with my Riddler and Harley Quinn portrayals. For a first try I think this came out alright. Got an opinion? I'd love to hear it.

The sequel will probably be called something along the lines of Natural Balance, you can wrack your brains over who that alludes to. I think I'll have some horror elements in it, so Scarecrow is definitely going to appear. Riddler's progress in Arkham will also be a side story, possibly even an escape. I'll try to work harder on the riddles if I ever have him on another spree.

Most of the riddles are from this wonderful little site: http:// riddler. batbad. com/ lair/

And as an ending note:

Kings and Queens

may cling to power

and the jester's got his call.

But as you may discover,

the common one

outranks them all.

What is it?


End file.
